The cutting silently gazed at the passersby. I looked at them too and took a photograph. So the heralds of Spring (people prune the trees at Spring) appeared on my blog.
The street will be rejuvenate. That's fine, yet it was hard to rejoice over these good news. The "heralds' were lying on a ground, they were thrown dawn for not to shadow the windows...
While it's fine to think about my grandson as a green leaflet who will dance in the air here soon, it's hard to look at the cutting as at the symbol of myself and my generation... - our good wishes transformed into the need of care of the helpless retired and thus burdened the youth with the heavy taxes. The photograph talk eloquently : those, who shadow the windows, were pruned back...
I tried to comfort the cuttings- titled them the Heralds of Spring, yet it was hard to see oneself in the silently lying on the pavement
What would be the application of what was grasped to practice?
I wanted to buy a flower but could bring home just my good wishes wrapped in the apology (there were no clicks on donate button).
The suicide is the deadly sin, yet is the begging any better?
The silent heralds of spring talk loudly.
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