a bright world between the placid mountains

Some places are beautiful not because of the ambiance or the architecture but because of the warmth it is embedded with and the ardor it holds. 
One breezy winter night I was there. It was so quiet that I could hear the dewdrops falling from the eaves, one denizen dog was kind enough to accompany till I was done boarding into a small wooden reception cabin. Waiting for the day to dawn I saw the soft moonlight slipping through the window of the small cabin and the fading sound of the lonely cicadas. After sleeping the tiredness off, I was seating in the yard with a steamy mug in my hand which a dear friend had poured. It was quite a lovely view, the mountains under the snowy veils, A golden dazzling light on everything one can see, the pine foliage tinkling in the sharp thin breeze, and the iridescent crystals on the peaks of the frozen hills  I breathed it all in like I only do when I truly feel for something. I was captivated by the gaze of winer sun, unguarded innocence in the Himachali eyes, and the cold blue shadows of the mountains. 
Apart from the beauty that nature pours, the sacred souls who live there can make anyone feel so much at home. 
now I know this place exists-- a bright world between placid mountains, a place of solace. Where the air drizzles ecstasy around.