Out of bed, and the warm rug no longer protects him from the icebite of a hostile wintery breeze. Shivering and shuddering his way into the day as the sun remains shy at dawn, he realizes the importance of warmth, a blessing disguised – sometimes as affection from a mother’s embrace, or tenderness from a lover’s flesh.

Yet man has the unique distinction of being the only warm-blooded animal to have bitter hailstones flowing through his loathing veins.

Let the frost freeze thy skin and not thy heavenly heart.