it's the fresh laid snow, first of the season, and always heavy with the promise of more - there is a weight to this season for me that no other one offers, a despair that falls as silent as each snow. Yet the season, and every storm, brings too the beauty of change, an opportunity to not turn away from cold, nor wish for days of warmth, but to allow the grace of what is to open me to my own shifting seasons - for I have clung to some beliefs as surely as the last autumn leaf, and now the bareness of winter comes for what is due.
Letting go, there is this, and
all is welcomed to my
world.
It's fresh laid snow, first of the season, and always
heavy with the promise of it's
moment.
~
Peace,
Eric
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