A ballad to the Sun

Winter is leaking in through the cracks in my window, it creeps up through my toes and into my hands. I could swear my skin was translucent and you could see every bit of heat leave my body. In no way could I have possibly been made for this cold oppressive season. I miss the sun, actually on a very personal level I miss the sun. It's like my best friend, my guiding source of adventure and freedom has abandoned me. Hidden itself away behind ice crystals and those emotionless wintery clouds. They are nothing like summer clouds.  The clouds of summer are like paintings made with a purpose; they are bold, thick, dark and angry or they can be light, round, and weightless, sometimes they show up just before the sun kisses the earth as if their only purpose was to add texture to a sunset. Summer is a string of energy, the type of energy that compels you, demands you to stick your head out of the window and scream at the top of your lungs, the energy that impulsively tells you to hold someone's hand or say the words that are on the tip of your tongue that you've been contemplating saying all night. Summer, she tells you to say "to hell with it" and jump off the high dive naked. She begs you to learn something new, meet someone new, and do something wild. She calls out to discover, to try, to experience. Summer is rich, and blisteringly hot, full of sunburns and running barefoot. I want to plant my feet in the ground like the bulbs in the garden and wait till the sun kisses the ground above me to reintegrate myself here. So, if it seems I am being cold, it's probably because I am cold, and if I am distant it's because my limbs are frozen to the ground. This winter has already sucked the adventure from my bones and the expression from my face. If I seem different and not quite myself I hope you remember I've just recently lost my dearest friend.  

May the sun shine again soon 

And may we all live in eternal Summer

-J