A snow storm comes to echo the icy soul yet instead finds that it is the beautiful individualism of the snowflake that mirrors back. That instead of despair comes joy, a resilience to any weather.
Beneath the midnight howl, amid the branches that groan, in the ever whitening night, is a stoic mother Earth who will never flinch at even twice the fright.
Amelia looked out the window pane, into the vast snow storm that came to render her house such a pretty Christmas-white. Happy though she was, loving winter as she did, part of her yearned to swaddle the trees and make woollens for those who could not shelter by her own comforting hearth.
I was the eternal flame in that snow storm, the flakes melting upon my skin. Though all around became so icy cold, I could feel my inner furnace stoke my hearth to an ever more healthy glow.
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