Her fingers- whispered secrets to the trembling wings. "don't you know, little one?" "the cold can be cruel when given the chance."

She gathers you close to the hollow of her chest breathing life into your shivering bones. In her hands, the winter's icy sting subsides.

The branches, heavy with frozen berries, creak in the biting wind. They spy her gentle touch with curiosity and envy, acorns rustling their approval.

And though the snow swirls wildly all around, a warm haven exists in the curve of her palm. It is there you find your own small, precious place to thaw and become something new.

When at last you are stirring with renewed life, she releases you back to the crisp air, watching as with a startling burst of vibrant song, you take flight, leaving a trail of hope in your wake.