The Thawing Stream

The stream I’d passed all winter, locked beneath a sheath of ice, now gurgled softly as water trickled through cracks in its frozen surface. Kneeling by the bank, I dipped my fingers into the frigid flow, feeling its tentative movement.

A woman collecting kindling nearby noticed my fascination. “The stream speaks, doesn’t it?” she said.

“What does it say?” I asked, smiling at her poetic tone.

She placed a hand over her heart. “It reminds us that nothing stays frozen forever. Even in stillness, life prepares for motion. Spring is on its way—patience, and you’ll see the world transform.”

The sound of the stream followed me long after I left, its song a gentle promise of the changes to come.