When I think of you it's with tears, because no one else has such delicate hands that can reach into my soul and calm my fears.

Freshly cut Christmas trees smelling of stars and snow and pine resin - inhale deeply and fill your soul with wintry night.

I love it when the dark bottle of night spills out, and the Moon writes in chalk about us.

Summer softens lines that winter cruelly shows.

December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory.

I pray this winter be gentle and kind - a season of rest from the wheel of the mind.

We fear monsters because we fear the dark parts of ourselves.