Balsam Winds.

As the winds struck the cords of glass, she rose.

Blanketing her shoulders in precious wool, she grew breathless.

Christmas was approaching; a change of spirit.

Consumed by feelings of overwhelming joy, she set out for a winter’s night stroll.

A crystal star shooting across the navy sky, she gazed above.

Trees illuminated by moonlight and ice. One spectacular tree would shine brighter than the rest.

As she gracefully touched it’s branches, she felt an icy chill race down her spine.

A gleaming white light shone down upon the lovely balsam fir. She knew. Deep down, she knew.

The Christmas spirit had poured itself over her. She felt peace. She felt magic.

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