13.January.18


As snowflakes cover that on which they alight, silence. Even when belving under the pressure of a footstep, what is heard is as muted as the world blanketed. White stanches the daily bustle of life; it is a time for reclusion and rest and reflection. A powdered branch is still a branch and not a pseud of show for while it may no longer purpose as a perch, it, with humblest roots, may still protect that which lies below.

Categories: Melange

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