At last, the sun rays are cutting through the white cotton clouds like long golden blades bringing slight warmth to the broken tree branches; cheerless and limply from the weight of the motionless rain.
Leaves struggle to remain erect while somehow managing to maintain their green undertones. These faint green hues only visible through a thick layer of frost, remind me of what it is like to look through the bottom of a glass that once contained milk.
The rain frosted over each individual branch has now formed a sparkling spectacle of delicate icicles; they dance from the ends of twigs forming tiny rainbows. Small droplets begin to roll off the gleaming ice as the heat from the weak sun rays liquefies them.
I stand there in silence breathing in the fresh air like one would after a rainy day. Closing my eyes I hear the gentle symphony performed by the various size water droplets drumming against the wintry ground. I feel my body begin to succumb to the stillness of a chilly winter morning as the ends of my limbs are slowly becoming numb.
The ice storm had occurred the night before. Cold and unforgiving, it brought sleet, wind and ice. The ruthless breeze had whistled through every crook and cranny of my old house, as if threatening the fire sizzling within my fireplace.
I must have had at least two large cups of hot cocoa with floating little marshmallows swimming on the top. All night I tried to keep warm by submerging myself inside a bed of oversized blankets and fluffy pillows. But at last, it was over. Morning had arrived and with it, a new fresh start. What happens after it's over you asked? ... Hope – I responded.
