Updated: Apr 2
Each year there is always snow that refuses to melt. It defies reason as it hides in the branches of the pine trees. Swaying back and forth in breeze. Laughing at the sun. Adding a sparkle and glow to the green pine needles.
And then one day it happens. The perfect sphere of hot plasma changes position. The wind shifts to the west. The last of the snow is gone.
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