a touch of frosting

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 Comments on “a touch of frosting

  1. ALmost as though it’s creeping into the dark days of the year. Freezing at night here, too. Now I’m anxious to get past that shortest day of all… πŸ˜‰

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