Melancholy

The melancholy sights.

An old woman is standing in the middle of the park, watching the squirrels play, while her docile German Shepard sits quietly beside her. 

Neither make a sound. 

Both are taking in the sights and sounds of a surprisingly warm windy day. 

Ordinarily riddled with snow and ice, the park is lush with dull green grass and soft mud.

I wonder, as I watch from my second story window, whether the old woman is sad.

Maybe it’s content that’s washed over them both, or perhaps she knows something I don’t. 

Whatever it is, I envy her. 

Very rarely do I stop and appreciate life moving around me.

These melancholy moments.