Silence descents in flakes of white. Covering, smothering. It’s heavy. Tired. It has been falling for far too long, and now it looks for the gentle reprieve of Spring. For the slow warmth that creeps with buds exploding in a floral fireworks.
Weary, it lands with a dissipating sigh. It does not linger as it once did. It does not grow, all encompassing as it used to. Instead it fades into grey with wishes of green.
It’s ready to sleep. Ready for the dreams of warmth, of blossoms and lush grass. Weary, winter yawns out the last of its cold, slowly settling down, closing its eyes, not to wake till the last shivers of fall nudge it gently awake.
This idea actually came from Canada’s Olympic slogan ‘We Are Winter’. When hashtagged, it looks almost like Wearywinter, something that one of my friends pointed out. Thus spawned this post.