‘Winter’ by Clarissa Aykroyd

  Winter after Rilke I love the light of winters gone by. They weren’t so carefree, and we cringed at their hard, bright strength; we breathed in the cold air of courage to face them: they crowned us magi of the snows. And the fire that withstood those winters was all flame and flow, true fire. Writing came hard. We couldn’t even feel our fingers. … Continue reading ‘Winter’ by Clarissa Aykroyd