The morning snow just started. Winter arrives with fanfare, the coziness of yuletide. The sugar plum fairies and baby messiahs and presents for all the little girls and boys, so soon followed by the adult bacchanal of cork popping and midnight kisses. Our weeks of extravagant welcome to the season alleviates some fear of the reality season, the cold, the snow, the endings. Death don’t have no mercy in this land. Not everybody makes it through. The hearse waits for passengers who are missing the snow and the next spring they will see will not be not of this earth.
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