In the hush of January’s dawn,
Where whispers of frost gently play,
The world awakens in soft grace,
Wrapped in a tender, icy embrace.
Trees stand adorned in crystal light,
Their branches a lace of silver hue,
Each breath a cloud in the morning air,
A silent promise of beginnings anew.
The sun rises, a timid glow,
Casting warmth upon the wintry scene,
As hope dances on the horizon’s edge,
In the quiet heart of January’s dream.
Beneath the snow, life patiently sleeps,
Awaiting the gentle touch of spring,
Yet in this stillness, there is beauty,
In every moment, in every silent thing.