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Dance of Winter’s Whispers

These winter evenings captivate my soul. A type of resilience rings true for those who can contain even the darkest of nights. The fire ever crackles on my heels, singing a song of howling wood. When the dusk of day is simmering in the distance, one can walk through fields of silence with smooth resolve. The sky is painted with feathers of deep aquamarine and swirled with humbled heavy hues. My boots are stumbling on this path lit by a single candle, unsure of anything but itself. I find the wind is whirling past my burnt lips, however my arms hold strong to the single light.

I can see my breath as I smell the sweet pine, that also withstood the drifts of an icy waltz, in their own divine design. Trudging to the cabin, I hear laughter lighter then the shimmering cape upon us. The warmth of being is once more, through the dance of winter’s whispers we can be sure.

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