In the hush of winter’s gentle embrace,
Where the world is draped in a cloak of white,
Robert Frost’s whispers fill the space,
Painting stillness in the soft moonlight.

The branches bow under the weight,
Of snowflakes dancing from the sky,
Like a poet’s verse they gently create,
A world where dreams and silence lie.

The crisp air bites with a tender chill,
Yet warmth is found in the quiet glow,
Of words that linger, steady and still,
In the heart of the winter’s gentle snow.

As the night unfolds its starry quilt,
Nature’s lullaby softly sings,
In a world where winter’s beauty is built,
On the frosted edge of Frost’s imaginings.