I took a sound from the repository of memories and revelled in its depth of sensation. The years do not dim nor do the seasons dull the rise and fall of a soprano voice. Clear and sharp as a winter frost it pierces consciousness to invade a realm of deepest calm. As a shaft of sunlight that lies on a hoar frost it is both a catalyst and a pointer toward things unlooked for that is a benison and more than we should ever deserve to experience. For beauty warms a cool soul into being.