In the quiet arms of winter’s reign,Where frost and silence intertwine,The ice beneath the moon’s soft gaze,Reflects a world of crystalline.Each flake a whisper, cold and bright,A tapestry of frozen dreams,The night embraces the fragile light,In icy rivers, silver streams.Echoes of the distant past,In every crack and frozen lake,Stories told in glacial cast,Of time and space the ice does make.Yet even in this frozen art,A warmth persists beneath the freeze,A promise of the spring to start,In the thawing of the trees.