Sunday, February 10, 2013

Winter (1993)


The days are short. Dark comes so quickly now, dropping like a curtain over the window of the sky.
Dark and Cold crouch around the house like predators seeking the warmth and light. The Wind taps scritchy scratch against the windows, whistling a mournful tune.
All three looming ever present until dawn, but even then there is no guarantee of light or warmth.
Morning is so indistinct this time of year.
The grayness only a brightening of the night.
The days remain shadow filled and gloomy making the presence of a candle a matter of rejoicing.

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