Frozen Ghosts

The freezing rain pelts the earth with the precision of a freshly sharpened knife. A fortuitous artist, the rain delicately sculpts its next project among the trees of the orchard. A glassy coat drapes every surface, a crystalline window to a moment stuck in time. The trees desperately cling to their hard-earned profits of the season, but acquiesce under the weight of the artist's intentions, no longer capable of salvaging their efforts. The cunning artist robs the trees of their bounty in a hushed heist.

With icy strokes, the artist continues to paint and sculpt a transparent glaze around the fruit. Each stroke strengthens the artist's hold on the stolen treasure, a tight grasp on its fleshy subject.

A dull gray haze clouds the sun with a softness that promises something lighter. The freezing rain turns to a gentle snow, flurries of flakes falling silently as the artist finishes its work. A subtle shift in the air triggers a fissure and a hairline fracture plagues the masterpiece. Rotting fruit oozes through the cracks, a golden stream of lost potential.

Hollow tombs dangle precariously in the wind. Frosted silhouettes preserve the beauty of something lost, the vestiges of previous life. A haunted emptiness shrouds the orchard as frozen ghosts hang from tree limbs. But there is dignity in honoring loss.

Now, the snow claims the gold as it seeps into the ground to nourish something growing beneath the trees. A misfortune becomes a new beginning, a fresh start, a second chance.