For The Sunday Muse prompt #41 and The Sunday Whirl Wordle 388. Image Source.
\\\* Green with a hint of yellow, the tender tendril pushes past the strictures of an empty bottle. Outside, the chill from snow piled high smothers everything, its weight like a bland, white blanket inhibit ing life.
The shy and the retiring do not inherit the delights of this benighted world, only the tough who blithely swipe away civility appear to win the trial of perception.
But always after night the day comes; and with it life reborn, somehow staying whole in the face of relentless pressure