A cheerless, damp February day. The leafless trees seemed twisted, skeletal. The woods looked like a cathedral fallen into ruins. No birds sang in the bare boughs, nor flitted through the thorns. Each winter, I reach this point of despondency when everything seems derelict and lifeless. If even the birds appear to have abandoned the world, it’s hard to keep hopelessness from the heart.
14 February 2019, The Tablet
Glimpses of Eden
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