Come the eventide the lamp shone as night-sky and star made one. Come the morrow's shine it was mountain-heather gay. That day, the door opened wide, spring air flowed with a generous bouquet of birdsong. Change had come. Out there, where land meets sky, where mountains and oceans chatter, awaited something nobody has ever seen before. Then, lamp no more, yet a metallic pocket flashlight, it awaited my hand. I reached for it, feeling its warmth radiate from skin to bone marrow. Magic. The days of magic had returned. Grass wands were wands once more. Winter was finally over.
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