Morning Of December

Morning of December

The sharp air, the world is silent,
Silver frost lays vale and hill.
The sky hangs pale and wide,
Hues of dawn brave little space on the horizon's side.

The trees are draped with icy lace,
Witness to the grace that is nature.
Their breath hangs low; the earth breathes;
A quiet hymn through frozen trails.

The snowflakes fall, with a whispering song-
Soft and fleeting, they don't stay long.
Crunching steps, rhythm-
Heartbeats louder in the cheer.

Though the sun shyly begins to glow,
It gives a golden kiss to the snow-filled fields.
Far off that warmth would be a promise,
A passing glimpse at where dreams are.

December Morning: Cold and Pure
That's the only moment we last with it.
For in that chill, warmth will hide-
in the beauty of winter's pride.