While the light is slowly dying

[sovay]

I love this dark and brightness. The air freezes on the skin, smokes in speaking. The snow glazes like white steel underfoot. I can smell pine needles and blood oranges; I will light a fire before midnight. Hold on to the sun.

Comments

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

Lovely.

Hold on to the sun.

I'll try. You also.