Poem about Winter
Snow falls into dusk,
a quiet across frozen fields
footsteps vanish fast.
Pines wear coats of white,
wind sings through their needled arms,
a cold, silver tune.
Frost will climb windowpanes,
drawing lace with icy hands
night watches in still.
Crows cry through the cold,
startled from their bare branches
White buries the land.
And in the quiet,
a fire dances like a heartbeat
winter holds its breath.
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