“I hate her, I tell you…hate her!”, the aged man bellowed to no one in
particular as he walked toward the temple’s center. He stopped when his feet
reached the perimeter of marble encircling a pool of calm water.
“Who do you hate?” a gentle, feminine voice spoke.
“Cursed, June…who else?” the man replied.
“What vexes thee, my son?” the woman asked.
The man ignored her, hunching down to peer at the clear water.
“Son?” the feminine voice spoke with a tint of authority.
“Look at me mother!” the man wailed as he stared at his reflection.
Age had taken him; etching their fine lines the length of his skin. He then
looked up and saw his mother approach the end of the dias at the northern section of the temple. He watched in awe as her graceful form descended the twelve steps before joining him at the edge of the pool. She was the epitome of beauty; reflecting the charm and elegance of his brothers as well as the sharp features he possessed. He then observed June in the golden-locks caressing her shoulders, and he held back a curse.
“You are beautiful to me,” his mother said. “Why must you always fret?”
“It’s not fair…she came too soon,” he whimpered.
“There was no angst when your brother had his time. Why must you always be upset when June has her moment?” his mother asked.
“She’s….she’s…so beautiful,” he replied.
“And when my husband ventures farther from us…you too, will once again be as radiant as the dawn,” she said.
“No buts. You are my beloved Winter…but now is the time for your