In the early hours of Tuesday, the lone tree on the hill wakes up with me. Its arms are stretching out, reaching for the rising sun.
The cold is harsh and unforgiving, but the last three leaves that decorate the bare branches on the tree are not.
They are dancing in the breeze, holding on to the branches that wave in the wind. Delicate and strong.
They stuck around this winter.
The tree and I keep each other company for five minutes every morning, a moment of quiet where we remind each other to stretch and breathe.
Winter doesn’t last forever.
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