phew, that last entry was long...it started out as a simple reaction and ended up nearly a critical analysis...I guess that's somewhat illustrative of my personality :)
The weather was most peculiar today. It is unseasonably warm, and quite damp, for last night it rained heavily, coming down in thick twisting sheets. A mist hung in the air like a gauzy curtain all day, and the moisture combined with the mild temperatures could almost have bewitched the senses into believing it was spring where it not for the silence of the birds, the whiteness of the sun, and the faint scent of decay. I went running through my neighborhood in the afternoon, and in the fog, I fancied I could see ghost forests and phantom deer. The naked boughs of trees reached up toward the dreary grey sky like the pleading arms of lost souls. I almost wish for a snowfall to clothe them, but I wish more for the return of life to their branches. Am I the only one who nurses a slight but trembling fear that the spring will not return, that there might be no renewal? I suppose what I wish for most right now is for the voice that I love best to whisper that spring will come again, and to be held in his arms till I doubt no more.