STARRY, STARRY NIGHT


          December extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and pouring rain; January arrived, cold as frozen iron with hard frosts and icy winds that stung my cheeks and bit at my ungloved hands.   Winter’s sunless days, brutally cold temperatures, and constant dreariness had broken my spirit.  Then one clear January evening, I opened my garage door; stood on my driveway; and watched my breath mingle with the crisp, frigid air.  


I glanced up; stars filled the vast dark sky above me like pale corn sewn into freshly-turned   The lyrics of “Starry, Starry Night” played softly in my head. As the lights twinkled and the unheard music played, I pondered.  Stars.  What are they?  Guardians of the galaxy? Blinking fairy lights in the night sky?  Fireflies burning brightly against flowing black satin behind veiled layers of serene clouds above my head? Or are they keepers of light and heat? 
soil.


I zipped up my jacket; tucked my numb fingers and hands into armpits; and felt the chilly winter wind tousle my hair.  Perhaps, the stars are the promise of warmth and life shining through winter’s brittle cold, darkness—symbols of hope scattered across the midnight velvet sky reminding me that spring’s light and heat will eventually emerge from winter’s cold, dreary darkness. 


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