In winter, the tree was lonelier than ever. No bird came to visit it, and no passerby would come its way. Only the wind would gather snowflakes from wherever it could and cover the branches, so the bareness of the tree wouldn't be visible. As I watch the tree from the window frame, I feel like it is the loneliest being on the ground. The wind occasionally shakes the curtains, as if trying to bring a little relief to the tree's solitude through its dance.