I don’t know what the weather is like where you live, in your distant land, an ocean away from my own, those unbridgeable waters. In my place, the brilliance of the fall is succumbing to the gloom and sparseness of shivering cold. The crops are coming in, and the wild creatures scrounging what they can from the land before it’s gone. I miss the sun and its cheerful, carefree warmth.
How I used those days; how I wasted them, those bright and innocent days.
How long will I stubbornly stand in this harsh wind and deepening twilight? How long can I pretend that I can take the deepening cold? Those winds will only grow harsher, the sky only darker, and nothing can stop the ice and the snow, a slumber like death. Soon I will have to put on my coat, and retreat inside. But not just yet, please not yet!
I want the summer. But summer is past, across unbridgeable time, unforgiving time. Winter is looming. Cruel and seemingly endless. Who can stand against the seasons?
Oh, how I wish I could stand outside!
Can you relate, in your land across the sea, so terribly far away?
– O.
Ostrander Bellepoint 