By John Yager
Winter comes, the days are shorter and the nights are long. It's time to snuggle by a well banked fire, time for another short-short story prompted by the changing seasons.
This is the last of these little tales. With it we end the year. I wish you well; health, plenty, contentment and the closeness of someone you love.
Andrew, thank you again for so much help, for good advice, for proofing and editing and, most of all, for making me look so much better than I am.
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White light reflected off new snow, reflected off white sheets on a rumpled bed, and off our own pale bodies, bereft of summer tan or autumn glow, is purer light.
I turn to you and feel your warmth. I feel the harder wonder of our love as we enfold each other in the late sun's rays.
When did we learn this love? When did we learn the skills we share, the knowledge of my body next to yours, the mystery of that alignment of the soul?
When did we ever learn that two make up one whole? I can not fathom what it would be like to be alone, having known the simple joys of being one with you.
The world outside is cold but here, curled in our warm embrace, our smaller world is filled with ecstasy and peace. There is a lesson here - if two can find it, can the skill be shared? Can we somehow teach the grumbling world to sing our simple song, to lay aside its hostel ways and find what we have here?
It may be more than we can hope, but now for all the world we hold the dream that makes alliance strong.
If we can keep this covenant there may be hope. We hold commitment dear against a hostile world. We'd be such willing teachers if the teaming world would heed what we embrace.