At The Edge Of Dawn

Day 89: Snow fell throughout the night, a snow which desired to possess all it touched; to take the hills unto itself, to wrap branches in its embrace while wind was absent from the boudoir. It was a snow which coveted each nook and cranny, usurping fern and lichen. And like a spent lover, it lingered long and was caught by the light of dawn in flagrante delicto, still abed. Too late it was to pretend, the snow remained to challenge the advancing light, and so it is tonight, winter holding the woodlands in its arms.