In the hush of winter’s breath,
Silent snowflakes kiss the earth,
Blanketing all with gentle white,
Weaving tales of life and death.

Trees stand bare, their branches stark,
Shadows stretch across the land,
In the cold, the whispers hark,
Of stories etched by nature’s hand.

Frosted winds weave through the night,
Carrying secrets in their song,
A lullaby of fading light,
Where life’s echoes don’t belong.

Yet beneath the icy shroud,
Hope lies dormant, waiting still,
For spring’s warmth to break the cloud,
And life to bloom by nature’s will.