I would have no better a beginning to this merry month of December than a day and an evening of wind and snow such as this. Last night, the cruel Northern gusts blustered against our shutters, burying everything under a chilling blanket of feathery ice – the low rumble of thunder in the far-away distance.
Yet, even as I am enchanted by the particular beauty of Winter`s might – I recognize that I do so from a pleasant vantage. Safe and warm in my house, behind a locked door and fully operational climate-control unit, `tis quite easy to ruminate upon the raw splendor of such a bitter flurry of wind and snow.
The transient ones, without home nor comfort, cannot claim this privilege – for they are vagrant and shiftless. The maelstrom (from which I have some respite) is a maddening chaos from which they cannot escape. Even as they do wrap their arms tightly about their frame, the coldness pervades their entire essence.
I stride out into the snow with bold vigor… my feet bound in sturdy shoes, a heavy coat spans my shoulders, a long fleece girds my neck with warmth. I fear not the howling winds, for I have a Home that awaits me in its loving arms.
Glad and content am I in this fierce Season – but it was not always so…
I too was once a wandering Soul, of a darkled and baleful mind, chilled to my hollow core with enmity for the Master of the Winters. I despised the glimmering icicle traceries of His artful hands, for they sang forth a testimony to His careful craftsmanship that echoed within my very being. The outward coldness of the winds were a bitter reminder for the aching emptiness within me – the cold blackness that remained even in the heat of deepest Summer.
Glad am I to testify that so much has changed in these many Seasons hence…
For, the commencement of the Winter has arrived with a brazen flourish, and I welcome its dulcet fury.