I have been looking for messages from Mother.
Seeking her voice out in the most unlikely of places.
She has been waiting for me, as she always does.
Wrapped up against cold winds in cloak, but barefoot among the leaves and snow.

I have found the messages Mother has left for me.
They are all around me, etched in stone and in the bone.
She whispers to me with the cold winter wind, warm lips against my skin.
quiet words of cold and long darkness before the light springs forth again.

L.S.
1-1-08