She approaches, clothed all in white and crowned with gold.
Her hair is dazzling white, almost difficult to look at, as with fresh snow in the sun.
A gold chain hangs think across her shoulders, resting atop the white fur collar of her heavy coat, cinched at the waist with a belt of gold disks.
Yet there is a puzzling detail, as she is bearded in ice—her cheeks and chin bristle with icicles that shatter and fall when she kisses me.
“Who are you?” I ask, confused.
“Winter,” comes a voice behind me.
I know her then.
–
I am still trying to make sense of the icicle beard. It was not unpleasant to the touch and it didn’t repel me. I am wondering now if it was some kind of muff around her next, pulled up close around her cheeks.
It’s also worth noting that this is the first time she has appeared in white, with white hair.