She lay on the ground, dirt collecting on her bones and in her hair. Feathers and twigs scatter around her as the raven builds its nest. A gentle breeze stirs up leaves around her. It never served her to have a heart of gold.
Sky’s feathers shedding on earth’s burned umber skin in a drifting dance spelling away the winds, with penetrating kisses slowing down earth’s temper, cooling in between its layers, touching gently its crisp unfreezing its heart, bringing back on earth the sublime.
Snowflakes Make the earth feel loved by the sky
That's why, I believe in snowflakes, Even if you would say, anyway, they melt.