Snow

 It may not come as a surprise to you, dear reader, that the winter witch is getting very old indeed. For years she brought the winter, slow and steady. But as she aged, a spot or two slipped her mind. And now, as ages turn to eons, her forgetting has become a thing of nightmares. For the world that relied on her coldness can depend on her no longer.

    But reliance has it's consequences.

    Reliance does not offer surprises.

    And an old woman - even the oldest of women - can, from time to time, be fully lucid.

    Which is when, of course, the snow comes.

    Light it falls, and fierce it spins, and heavy it lays on the ground. For all too brief a time. Lucidity never lasts. But, perhaps, like all the fleeting pleasures of this world, it is all the more beautiful for it's shortness.

    Sad. But beautiful.

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