Frost Kissed Pines

In the hush of dawn, when the world stands still,

A whisper of silver drapes the valley's hill,

The breath of the night, a delicate sigh,

Transforms every blade, as the frost flutters by.

Crystal lace dances on the edges of leaves,

Embroidered in secrets that the cold weaves,

Each twig twinkles softly, adorned in white,

A tapestry woven in the stillness of night.

The air, sharp and crisp, sings a winter's tune,

As the sun peeks shyly, a pale afternoon,

It glistens like diamonds on a field's gentle brow,

A fleeting enchantment, here and then gone, somehow.

Footsteps crunch softly on the frozen ground,

Echoes of magic, a symphonic sound,

The breath of the earth, a frosty exhale,

A moment suspended, in winter's soft veil.

In the heart of the forest, a secret unfolds,

As frost-kissed pines wear their coats spun of gold.

Icicles hang like chandeliers from the eaves,

Nature's own jewels, like dreams in the leaves.

The world feels enchanted, as if time has ceased,

A spell cast by winter, a fleeting feast,

But with every heartbeat, the warmth will return,

Yet in this first frost, the heart starts to yearn.

For the magic of winter is brief as a dream,

A shimmering glimmer, a soft, silver beam,

So let us linger, in this moment of grace,

And treasure the frost in this delicate space.

As the sun rises higher, the frost starts to fade,

Yet memories linger, in this winter parade,

For though it may vanish, like whispers of night,

The beauty of frost holds a warmth in its light.