Winter's Whispers
In the hush of winter's breath, a symphony unfolds, A delicate sonnet, where silence beholds. Beneath the pallid sky, where frosty tales are spun, The world is wrapped in whispers, and a quiet dance begun. Beneath our feet, a tapestry of crystal lace, The crunch of snow, a cadence of grace. Each step a stanza, in a poem untold, As winter weaves its magic, in the frosty cold. The trees, once adorned in garments of green, Now stand in quiet majesty, a somber, wintry scene. Their branches, bare and fragile, like skeletal arms, A canvas for the wind, where its melody charms. The breeze, a gentle maestro, through the naked boughs, A soft, soothing hum, as winter avows. A lullaby for the earth, in its snowy embrace, A melody that time can never efface. And high above, the winter birds take flight, Their calls, a distant echo in the serene night. A chorus of avian minstrels, on a journey unknown, Their song, a ballad in a language all their own. The world is painted in hues of silver and
