#to winter

[thatwritererinoriordan]

[simbience]

Tropical plant baby ! (✿╹◡╹)

[musicmakesyousmart]

Interior Disposition - ...To Winter

Still*Sleep

2016

[citronellaww]

To This Feeling in Winter...

As always, the snow came, somehow ritually, somehow making a statement, and oh I was so overwhelmed by my own feelings, the ones I buried under the white masses of cold beauty...

Painting: Snow Storm: Steam-Boat off a Harbour's Mouth by J. M. W. Turner

[ewmdatabase]

Eric William Morris and the rest of the company sing To Winter from The Ballad of Little Jo.

[winter-anon]

Winter went outside to the grass, her favorite place to be. She sat down and practiced creating small sparks of fire. Some were bigger than she wanted, but she was far enough away from the house. "How the hell am I supposed to fight Night if I'm like this?" She mumbled "Easy answer, don't." A taunting voice whispered behind her. Night's arm wrapped around Winter's neck, forcing her to lean forwards. "I want you to repeat the rules to me, I know you remember them" Winter was terrified, so she followed her instructions. "D-don't l-l-leave the h-house" "Oh, you broke that rule, didn't you?" Night asked. She grabbed her up and threw her across the grass. "Keep going" "D-d-d-don't tal-lk to s-s-strangers" "Another broken rule" She kicked her in the stomach. "Next" "D-don't f-f-fight the p-p-p-p-punishment." "Running away seems like fighting the punishment, don't you think?" Night took Winter by her hair and forced her to stand up. "What's the last one?" Winter hesitated. "I said what was the last one." Night brought her fist to winter's face, while still holding her hair, forcing her to stand up. "Aw, look. It's the scar from the murder scene." Night examined winter's cheek. "What. Is. the. Last. One." "Mommyisalwaysright" "What was that?" "Mommy... I-is always r-r-right" "That one seems broken, right?" Night threw winter to the ground, kicking to her repeatedly, then finally stopping to speak. "I want you to pretend nothing happened when I leave. I'll be back to do this again. This. Is. the. Punishment." Winter nodded, sobbing. "Goodbye for now, sister."

[poetrysupportgroup]

O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car. He hears me not, but o’er the yawning deep Rides heavy; his storms are unchain’d, sheathed In ribbed steel; I dare not lift mine eyes; For he hath rear’d his scepter o’er the world. Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings To his strong bones, strides o’er the groaning rocks: He withers all in silence, and in his hand Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life. He takes his seat upon the cliffs, the mariner Cries in vain. Poor little wretch! that deal’st With storms; till heaven smiles, and the monster Is driven yelling to his caves beneath Mount Hecla.

Poem of the day: December 24, 2016 To Winter // William Blake