Frost upon my upper window the wind roaring through with its lonely sound,
Rivulets of water upon the lower one white everywhere and the stark treees nodding in the breeze.
The howling of the wind such a lonely empty soul sound not a creature stirs in that foreboding white
Nightscape.
Brigid is frigid now blanketed in snow the only warmth burrowed in our shelters, here with my sacred Felines. The Wintry Ice Queen reigns.
Time to snuggle with my furry warmers and nest of blankets in these early morn hours the brown of the dark sky that always indicates snow
The wind howls fiercely, glass between the harshness of the white world and my warmth.
I rise to take my bed and slumber further but awoke to see Her regal crystalline beauty of snow. As the trees bow in abeyance.
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