Beauty Most Innocent

The silence is soothing, gentle like the blanket of white that lies over the earth. The streets are empty, serene tranquility. People move slowly, making paths as they go that will soon be lost, hidden under a fresh layer of softness. Words are spoken in hushed whispers, just audible above the muted sound of the snow being packed down by the weight overlying. Despite the wind that whirls the flakes into a dance as they descend from the clouds above, there is a certain warmth hanging heavily in the air. The snow insulates the world with a forgiving tenderness, cushioning, comforting, protecting. The brightness is like a light in this season of darkness, purity covering filth, hope amid despair. It is beauty at its most innocent.