Snowflakes, they fall from the sky, performing a freefall dance, to the tunes of the carols.
Architecturally multifarious, a permafrost fills the air. Limpid and transpicuous.
That frozen vapour like little diamonds, crystalline, they glisten, as they drop from the sky.
And as they kiss the ground, almost fluid like they fall and coalesce to form a blanket, enveloping the earth, as if a quilt, wrapping it, in its bleached amore, as it announces the arrival of the yuletide.
Every house graced with a tree adorned with ornaments sparkling and biguiling, every lane with fairy lights, chatoyant and scintillating.
The reindeers graze in the woodlands that are fringing the town, the boscage skirting the forest. Conifers lay fallen and scattered on the acreage of forest, pine and willow trees looming in the sky.
The people, enraptured and exhalting, as they jubiliate and have a ball.
The angels watch from above as the spirit of Noel fills the night sky. A rhapsodic euphoria impregnates the wind. For its the season of the yuletide once more.