Seasonal Courage

I wish I was as brave as the last bit of color, wincing not at waves, flinching not at frost, equal parts courage and optimism.
In weeks, if not days, they will be laid bare in bitter cold. They'll steep in snow and sleet, through short dim lit days and long pitch black nights.

But the long-stretched months will snap short in hindsight, and the seaside shrubs will again bloom and flourish under the noon day sun.

Is it this knowledge--this knowing it is just for a season--that makes them so brave?

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