I am the slaying winter.

I am the frost, the creeping frost, which slithers down the streets and crawls up the misty window pane.

I am the moon, the solitary moon, lingering silver, far past its dark hours, invading the crisp sunlight sky.

I am the cold, the blistering cold, consuming all warmth, seeping past clothes and skin 'till it bites in your very bones.

I am the desolate winter. And I am here to stay.