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Her snowflakes fell about like feathers landing in piles of heather. Less than silent, only the piercing sound of muted crackling as the ice crystals stack could be heard. The trees had long given their life blood, leaves now dead and rotting like so many things. The bark now frozen, all but reflects the lifeless husks they so wish to be. Such is her lot in eternity, to gather all that ends, to gather all that dies, to gather the darkness so that her sister may bring… bring all the things she so longed to have.

Man stepped out from his yurt and exposed himself to her. He stretches out his arms to allow the snow to fall upon his frame. Spreading them wide, he looks to the sky. Slowly he leans his weight to the heel of each foot; and in turn loses his balance. He begins to fall back, and she can only think of Love, and a life different than now. She decided she needed him right then, as his nakedness made contact with the snow.

Instead of burning this Man with her cold, leaving him afraid, she cradles his head with the soft powder. She lightly falls upon him, touching every part of his exposed flesh with dots of her prickly moisture, painting him with her own being. Her ancient soul suddenly warmed as she trailed across this Man with her breezy tendrils. She encompassed him, upon him, around him, and from within her a new song was heard.

Quickly she ran to the North, to her home, to allow her new child to see the new world with his eyes. She named him after this mortal she had found. She named him Indian… Indian Summer.


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"All computers are garbage. They only contain answers." ~ Pablo Picasso


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The following comments are for "The Nudity of Winter"
by JLimer





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