Winter arrived with her chilling winds and frost.
The Green Man held on until the calendar and clock made it clear his time was up.
Icicles can be seen outside the kitchen window. The sharp and pointy daggers keep me inside. The warmth from the oven and the smell of cinnamon comfort me.
I wonder where the Green Man has gone. I know he will return when the seasons grant his entry. My memory of his curlicue mustache and his long nimble fingers, digging in the fertile earth, keeping the garden alive and growing, will stay with me, and give me hope through the shivering months to come.
movingforwardslowly 