As the first frost paints our window panes,
A delicate lace of ice and gleams,
Hope rises in the whispering plains,
And dreams unfold like morning beams.

Through crystal patterns,
new paths are drawn,
Strength to withstand the night’s cold schemes,
Within each frozen dawn is born a dawn,
Life renews with the bright sun’s streams.

© c.f. leach, 2024. Copyright protected. All rights reserved.