And with it, graves begin to shudder, dusted with snow, light flakes spiralling through the air. The cold seeps its way into our beds, the bitterness into our heads. And with it comes bells and candles and everything we use to mark the passing of days.
Sometimes I wonder if we could possibly ever lose control.
Maybe the world would go crazy. I know people who most certainly would. After all, we can't be princes without kings, and kings require a monarchy. So perhaps the frost climbing the windowpanes doesn't have to be a bad thing. Maybe we could find a way to keep the fire blazing and the hearth warm throughout the season.
Perhaps we could keep our sanity then, too.