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Spring crept in late that year, like a sullen schoolboy dragging his feet along the road to school on a Monday morning. It arrived so slowly that, at first, nobody quite dared to believe it; heavy coats were kept nearby even when the sun broke through the clouds to warm the cold earth, gloves were kept in pockets for weeks, even months after the last frost, and fires still burned in hearths.

It was only when the cherry tree blossomed that they could quite believe that the long, hard winter had truly come to an end. Only when the warm breeze carried soft petals of cherry blossom, shifted their hair and caressed their cheeks like a gentle lover, that they could trust in Nature once more, and put aside their fear of the long, dark nights.

But like the cherry blossom, the warm days would only last so long; soon it would be winter once more, and the soft breezes would turn into brutal winds. They stood beneath the tree with the last rays of sun on their faces and tried to commit the sensation to memory, a warmth that would stay in their hearts until the sun shone again.

© Kari Fay

(Author’s Note: It’s Three Word Wednesday once more and the prompt this week is the words Brutal, Sullen and Trust.)

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