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Why, dear, December, do you try so hard to be synonymous with death?
Is it not widely known that your arrival makes way for your sweet sister of life, Spring.
You can no longer put on frosty airs and believe that I am subject to your annual lifeless façade another moment,
For even the barren branched trees are mothers, cradling small litters of snow in their arrow shaped nooks.
I know there is good in you, yet.
For as I watch you half heartedly freeze the lively lakes with your frosty breath, only I know you do solely for the pleasure of watching our happy faces while we walk and dance like ice gods on water.
It is during your reign that families come together and reunite around your tall green pine sheltered relatives. Your cool breath and nippy personality brings people together in love and happiness.
Try as you may to take away all forms and associations between you and life,
I know your trick, you hide them in comforting caves and warm underground passages, you let them sleep softly, sweetly, and soundly, it is your season that allows for a time of peace between the predators and prey.
In enviably, your sister arrives and the stone is rolled away, life begins anew. And I know that some things must die before they can come to life in their fullest beauty and mightiest glory.
There is some good and some form of life in everything in nature, you are no different,
You are a spiky pineapple trying desperately to hide your sweet insides, a handmade card rough around the edges but thoughtful just the same.
You have never failed to arrive, like a prince on your silver snow-flower encrusted sleigh laughing heartily, and spreading the lively songs of your season.