The dark times are half over. The worst of it past. Healing and celebration have been the path for weeks now. At the riverside, in smoky rooms, and under ancient spruce trees, in the company of horses, phoebes, deer and many more unseen nature spirits the work has been wrought beautifully.
How much joy can grow in the days of light to come? How many good things have we pressed into the cold but eager earth?
Only time, the spinning earth about the sun, can tell.
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