Winter’s Child

snowWinter! Do not sit me by the warm hearth; send me into the dark crisp chill of a snowy midnight. I want to gulp cold, cold air–the sort of air that prickles your nostrils and stings your lungs.

Glass-like sheets of ice crackle beneath my feet. I crunch giant snowshoe footprints across untouched powdery terrains.

I am Neil Armstrong, but taking solitary steps for myself alone. No skis or snowmen for me, just rapture for the still air and diamond landscape.

For a night, civilization is obliterated and I am Queen.

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