Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

The woods stand still,

cloaked in a blanket of white,

silent, like a whispered secret,

softly falling, drifting down

from the sky’s wide open hands.

The trees wear crowns of snow,

branches bending gently,

the weight of winter's grace,

as if nature pauses

to breathe deeper in this chilly air.

I pull my collar tight,

darkness is creeping,

the road pulls my attention,

each step crunches, crisp

beneath my worn-out boots.

With every glance at those woods,

I feel a tug,

an invitation wrapped in stillness,

the beauty almost speaks—

“Stay awhile, listen here, feel this peace.”

But promises linger in my mind,

a warm fire, familiar voices,

the glow of home calls me back,

yet I long for the quiet,

for the magic that holds the night.

And though I pause in wonder,

caught between two worlds,

duty is a gentle pull,

as I whisper to those waiting woods—

"Someday you and I will dance longer."

With one last look, I turn away,

the path ahead waits patiently,

fading footsteps in the snow,

while the woods whisper their secrets,

wrapped in a silent embrace of night.