He's begging me!

He, the Sun that is, has come out today. He breached the grips of grey and mourning. And now, I am reaching for his robes of light, and trying so desperately to hold them in my pale grasps! Dont leave, I say. Please, I whimper.

He, yes he. (The word Sun comes from the root of "Sol" which means "He". Strange, but true. Everything is assigned a gender. Even the celestial. I always thought that the Sun was more feminine than masculine, like Mother Nature's floating womb, giving life to everything that crawls on Earth. I guess I'll just add that assumption to the long list of things assumed that were not correct at all. [If you are curious, Moon, comes from the word Luna, which means "she"])

I can hear him now, he speaks in the shimmers and shivers of the leaves and grass budding after Winters last frost. And in his first gasp, he says, he did not abandon me. No, he was oppressed and exiled! Oppressed, exiled? I repeat. I mull it over. I chew it slowly. I guess I can have more empathy for one that has been forced to leave, rather than one who flees.

Clouds, Rain, Snow, Sleet, and that slush that accumulates in the gutters.... They were the ones who stood against him and threw him to other side of the world. Thunder and Lightning scared him away, until the flowers rose from their graves and fought for his warmth to return. So he has slowly made his way back to our small Northwestern land and he is trying to reconcile the past 4 months with new promises.

Every season has a war, every season has a victor.

Welcome Spring, Welcome back Sun.