As Winter Calls

Frost whispers through the trees,

its breath a painter of icy filigree.

Leaves once lush now cradle snow,

crisp underfoot, like steps in forgotten lore.

Why does the cold stir old souls?

In the silence of snow, memories awaken,

each flake a note in winter’s symphony,

playing the quiet music of the grey sky.

Hear the hush, the world softens,

as white quilts lay over autumn’s remains.

The chill invites us closer, kindles fires,

wraps us in the embrace of its icy arms.

What secrets does the winter air hold,

frozen in time, waiting for the thaw?

Under its spell, our breaths become visible,

painting misty tales in the frigid air.

Embrace the slow descent into winter’s night,

find beauty in its stark, serene sights.

For in its depth, in the heart of its cold,

the promise of spring's warmth quietly unfolds.