Now He appears much later in the morning and further to
the south. His climb across the heavens
is quicker and lower, forgetting all about the passing over and crossifying of
the sky that heralded those days of growth and plenty. It is enough that He simply brightens the day
now, and we do not ask for warmth and growth we cannot have.
Cannot have? “But
He promised us!” you say. Yes, indeed, He
did. Those promises were written in little
love letters in an ancient language we have long since forgotten, enclosed by
our elder green brethren in tiny pods, each a world unto itself. They fall from the stricken branches now on
to the cold, wet Earth, and She quickly devours them like a hungry wolf. Now is the time for planting, not in the
Spring but now!
The great wheel in the sky keeps turning, and we follow the
shadows it casts on the old stone wall.
