In the quiet dawn, the ice takes form,Whispering tales of the night before,A silent symphony, a crystal norm,On the winter’s stage, it dances more.The branches wear their icy crowns,Glistening under the pale sun’s light,A frozen world where no sound drowns,In this frosty embrace, so pure and white.Each flake a story, each shard a dream,Crafted by nature’s gentle hand,A delicate dance in the cold stream,An artwork vast across the land.Yet beneath this icy, fragile guise,Lies warmth, waiting to be unfurled,A promise of spring beneath the skies,In the frozen heart of a winter world.