refreshing.

It's not until the snow covers every inch of the ground, when the white frosted rooftops melt into the sky, that I really feel my own smallness. The darkness does it too, filling my head and my heart with hopefulness just as pure. And when the black night and the white season come together our night is silent. Just as it is supposed to be. We change and grow and learn and prosper, always returning to the silent nights of winter. Within my smallness, a year dies and a tomorrow is born. Within my smallness, I gravitate back towards the loving embrace of life and faith and sorrow and charity. It is here where I find solitude when the winds blow. Never bending or breaking when the seasons change, for another winter lies ahead.