Almond trees

The end of summer. Days draw closer, closer, like the big man in the sky is closing ever so slowly the great curtains called 'Winter' shut over the land. The wind is picking up, and I can hear the double bass plucking its strings, vibrating across the land as the leaves shiver, trembling from red to gold, until the final pluck of the string is heard and all the leaves fall to the ground in a blink of an eye. The curtains are drawing closer, closer. I can feel the chill pick up, and suddenly it's no longer Autumn. The crows are calling, I feel them as I walk through the naked forest, the trees all cruel, haunting in their bare beauty. Snow flakes are hanging on my eyelashes, those crows, stark against the white grey curtain of Winter. The days are long, short, hard. Life struggles to go on. One day I see a rabbit. I chase her through the undergrowth, she is quick, too quick. I lose her. There I see, the beauty of a flower growing through the frost. I look up and see the buds on the Almond trees, all red and swollen and ready to burst. Hope is in my heart once again. The days grow warmer, warmer. And the curtain called 'Winter' draws futher away. Until one day, I'm in the heat of the desert and I'm screaming for Winters curtain to be drawn again.