Brown, blind fingers of wind and sand reached out, scooped up and threw the leaves in an upward spiral
and celebrated the end of winter, a frail girl who woke up late and saw a sneering sun waiting to collect her rent.
She walked out into the swirling sand and covered her dewey eyes... but the wind lashed at her in disdain and mocked, "Does it hurt?"
Winter pulled her tattered dress around her and looked back at her house where the grass was turning yellow and the rosebuds drooped and dropped.
Then, forelone, she walked right into the sandstorm and disappeared.