As the year draws her last few breaths, the watery light of the sun leaks across the sky. With barely enough strength to lift his face above the green hills, he appears but briefly, before sinking back into his dark bed. His daughters, the sunbeams, pay such a short visit that they barely impart any warmth to the waiting earth. The cold night folds back over the hills and claims the season as her own.
Yet the hope of growing light lingers in our hearts, trusting the turning earth to roll the sun back into our lives, with all his light and warmth. This hope will fuel us through the cold months of winter yet to come. Even as the earth grows colder to our touch, the suns promise will grow in strength, as the eternal year flows on.