Winter sings, loud and true. A call that runs through our bones, beckoning us home, commanding us to rest. We heed it's call as the days grow shorter, grow colder. When the earth is covered in frost, we watch from our windows, warmed by the hearth and curled around one another.
We gather round the fire, clasping warm drinks, clasping each other. To keep warm, to keep close, till the first glimpses of Spring arrive once more. When Winter's call sounds the word grows still, so that one day it can thrive and flourish again.
