Frosted Verse

In the quiet of dawn, a whisper calls,

As winter's breath begins to weave its tale.

The world awakes, cloaked in frosted shawls,

A delicate dance, where the cold prevails.

Branches dressed in silver, pure and bright,

Their shimmering coats steal the morning light.

In this stillness, nature's canvas unfurls,

Revealing the magic that frost gently hurls.

The air, crisp and filled with a silent song,

A chorus of whispers where shadows belong.

Each blade of grass, a crystal work of art,

Reflects the mystery of winter's heart.

The frost, a painter with a gentle touch,

Adorns the earth with its icy clutch.

A fleeting spell that won't long remain,

Yet leaves an imprint that words can't contain.

The world, transformed by this fleeting kiss,

Holds a beauty in moments such as this.

A reminder of nature's wondrous grace,

In the frosted verse, we find our place.

Purity dances in each frozen line,

A quiet joy in the morning's design.

Winter's arrival, a breath of fresh air,

Inviting us to pause, to simply care.

So, take a moment in the morning's glow,

To see the simple wonders that frost bestows.

In this frosted verse, let your heart find,

A gentle peace, in the chill of the mind.

In the embrace of winter's quiet might,

Find solace and awe in the frosted light.

For in these moments, fleeting yet profound,

The beauty of nature's song is found.