Winter

I miss the winter. I can still feel the biting grip it had on me, but it was beautiful. I stood on an untouched blanket of sparkling white snow, dazzled by the beauty. The morning was absolutely still, as if the city was dead, yet I could still feel it breathing with the crunch of the snow under my feet. The sky was a piercing blue overhead, almost too bright to look at, and every tiny little branch of every tree was coated in the crystal of the morning dew. Though the sun caressed everything it touched that morning, it was powerless against those crystals. With prismatic uniformity they each gave off a perfect rainbow of color as my eyes shifted from branch to branch.
Yes, I miss the winter.

The night carried with it, its own spell. Each star hung low in the sky, flirtingly begging to be touched, and yet flitting just out of grasp with a wink. The snow shone silver and luminous under the light of the moon, and someone had decided to reverence the winter in their own way one night. At the crest of a gentle hill I saw a glowing pulse under the snow. It was warm and bright, illuminating the spot as if it were the footprint of God. Coming closer, intrigued beyond measure, I found it's source....four tealight candles had been buried three inches into the snow in a circle, and lit. The wind could not touch them, and they had only enough strength to melt the snow over their flames, and I marveled at the stranger who had been so whimisical, so generous, to leave them there for someone; anyone to find.
Yes, I miss the winter.