Licht Years

where are you going, where have you been?

a touch of frosting

12

frosted

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

12 thoughts on “a touch of frosting

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