Midnight Frost ❄️

The other side of Midnight awakens

In dark and shadow clinging to the last

Vestiges of warmth as chill

Extinguishes Fall

Frost consumed earth

Sips the fruit of the white vine

of first frost, eyes opened

Rising slowly...crackling crisp

The other side of midnight sighs

Where freeze lurks

and cold blooms holy

❄️ quiet, intimate, and strangely ceremonial.

The wind calms, holding its breath.

Leaves no longer rustle - they crackle faintly,

stiffened by ice.

🧊

Grass blades snap underfoot - brittle, like glass.

Frost clings - a delicate armor, resisting touch.

🌲 Trees in Stillness, waits

Branches creak with slow, aching rhythms.

No wind, just the subtle shift in temperature -

wood contracting, adjusting.

🐦 Distant Calls of Birdsong - sparse, tentative.

A robin chirps once, then falls silent, testing the air.

🚪Human Echoes

As a door opens. The sound is sharper...

cold amplified edges. Footsteps crunch on gravel,

each step a punctuation in the silence.

💧 Frozen Breath

Your own exhale becomes audible, a soft plume of vapor.

It hisses briefly, then vanishes.

A poem, a soundscape of surreal narrative

where frost becomes the main character

in the play of a winter wonderland.