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Fire and Ice Above the frozen earth, their journey hence began. Tiny drops of moisture; fall to a darkened land. Winds blow them higher; once, twice, and thrice. A chill overcomes them, they transform to crystal ice. They change; a new pattern begins to form. With stems, branches and fronds, frosty white is the norm. Abundance of varied shapes, cover earth with a blanket soft. Except in one location, where smoke greets them from aloft. Carolers near a campfire, singing praises on high. Their voices reach to heaven, through snowfall from the sky. Heat of campfires rising, meld with winter’s cold, Catching flakes as they drop, not to release it s hold. Fire and Ice do not mix; an exchange goes unopposed. Flames alter beautiful flakes, and as steam they arose. This precious mist returns, to the place where it began. To gather once more like tear drops, to be released again and again. YarnSpinner