Winters Worm

In short, winter depresses me.

Period.

I begin to dread it's arrival on July 4th, the date I consider summers mid-way mark- the apex of the all to short season that represents everything green and alive.

Winter is death and dark shadows.
Winter is grey and cold and sinister and claustrophobic.
The days are short and the nights are long.

But this past season, strangely, I didn't want it to leave me.

It seemed winter had found it's worm-it's anima.

I felt it behind me, pulling me inward towards its cold soul and wrapping me with the wings of its frigid cloak much like a behemothic seraph might.

It  became somewhat of a protective guardian isolating me from the world.

I can't explain it. I just felt safe, shrouded.

I didn't want to leave the confines of its cradle.

Maybe I needed a sabbatical from the spinning sphere of humanity, a soul rest.

Maybe I needed my brittle branches snapped, the cold and selfish heart thawed, the dormant faith revived, the obstinate will tamed and the road of righteousness restored.

Act justly, love mercy, walk humbly before your God

Micah 6:8

Maybe Winter needed to have it's way, so that I could heal, and be that gentle spring rain, the new green leaf, that doe of the morning or coo of a dove.

For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come,
and the cooing of doves is heard in our land...
Song of Solomon 2:11-12