The fiery orb is a vision. Perched high above the heads of passing silhouettes it stares back into a black landscape sketched out by the fresh snow. The ornament on the grey tree unnoticed. It sits lonely on a branch illuminated by the adjacent streetlight. Snow falls gracefully unaffected by its presence, just as it has seemed unaffected by the weather for all these months.Read more "The Last Persimmon of Winter"