December jealously hoards her snow through early thaws, piling it deep in the woods in dingy mounds, beneath the hemlocks sheltering boughs. She breathes out frosty fog, layering mist shrouded blankets, to cradle the fledgling winter chill. December mornings sparkle with frost encrusted branches, glinting in rare moments of winter sunshine. She graces Christmas Eve with lacey snowflakes, picture perfect in the fading light. Dancing around lighted lampposts, her fragile messengers frost holly, pine, and ribbon with crystal white. December plays, flirting coquettishly with winter, lest cruel January snatch it from her, encasing the world in brutal cold and ice.
fairysockmother 