One winter’s evening I was walking the streets of my quaint village. The snow was falling. The beauty of the snow rang gentle the sparkle of my eyes. The speckle of snow on the tip of my nose tingled like some enchanted memory. It is so strange to summon such recollections that hark back to the purity of life. The freckle of snow leaves an icy chill that glows like a thousand sun sky.

The low noises of the neighborhood rested upon the arms of the wind.

I rambled on. It was Christmas season and in the windows of the houses Christmas trees lighted the way. There were carolers singing Christmas songs. The bark of a dog joined forces with the carolers. I found my way to the river bank where the quiet wisp of the water brimmed with sorrow.

In the tall grass near the river’s edge, I came to uncover the...