Snows sit silent, wood and plain, ‘till Springtime frees their prisms. Fires rise up well-kept flues now warming bones now heating stews of darkened early evenings. With mittens thick and scarves tucked in the young ones screech and scamper, their eyes spread wide their souls alight at magical shape-shifting. Now hunker down now bank the coals for it is time for reading, and making friends and singing songs and ginger-bread-dough kneading. The winds will lessen, times will change, and soon we’ll be to planting, now crack a smile now grab your mate for it is time for dancing. Huzzah.
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