Komorebi

I,

The cold haze on the first winter morning,

The grey skies where euphoria stops,

The thick canopy of woods, the silence of all life coming to a standstill

Broken by the solo, melancholic call of the blue jay,

The random waft of wild jasmines,

The prickly chill that rises from the pit of your stomach

And ends as a shudder in your spine,

The cold winter hands and winter feet and winter nose,

A heavy, laboured sigh.

You,

A warm sunlit spring day,

An endless sea of cloudless blue, full of hope,

A blinding stream of sunshine slicing through the trees,

A summer symphony of uninterrupted chirruping,

A lilting sillage of multihued blooms,

A yellow zephyr, carrying the warmth of an embrace,

And laughter, like bubbling champagne,

A springtime melody and cold beer and summer salad,

A breath of fresh air.