Gilly Flower Writings

The Smell of Winter

By Kathryn Evans

A cold wind blows, bringing with it the smell of home.

Cold winter mornings full of the dry, crisp smell of snow.

A pure white landscape stretches beyond my door, perfect and clean.

Ice hangs from the eaves and coats the trees like a wonderland.

The wind speaks of change, of journeys not yet taken.

But for now there is only the white, winter’s clean embrace.

Forcing events to slow to give time to contemplation.

To cool summer passions and sooth autumn regrets.

At night the stars shine the brighter.

The moon casts an ethereal light on the snow-shrouded world.

The world sleeps, waiting for spring and for cycles to start anew.

And we also wait, snug and warm, and try to find our own peace in the sleeping world.