Whispers of the Soul

Winter

The Language of Ice

Beneath the winter's breath, a silent world appears,
Where lakes and rivers hold their breath, reflecting hopes and fears.
A crystal canvas stretches wide, each facet sharp and clear,
In intricate designs of frost, the language of ice draws near.

Patterns swirl like whispers, delicate as a sigh,
Frozen ripples capture light, as clouds drift softly by.
The sun spills golden laughter on the surface smooth and bright,
Turning ordinary waters into a shimmering sight.

Fractals of creation bloom in whispers of the cold,
Each glimmer tells a story, a narrative untold.
The edges frost with secrets, while shadows weave and play,
In the stillness of the frozen world, where night embraces day.

A fragile lace of beauty, an art form born of freeze,
The mirrored skies above reflect the gentle, swaying trees.
With every crack and shimmer, the ice speaks loud and true,
Of moments caught in quiet, where time itself feels new.

Listen closely to its language, for it carries tales of old,
Of winter's tender presence, and the silent stories told.
In the depths of frozen waters, life pauses, holding fast,
A moment's peace in nature, where the echoes of time last.

So wander by the frozen shores, and feel the magic's call,
In the language of the ice, where beauty blankets all.
For in its stillness, we can find the world's soft, soothing grace,
Reflecting dreams and wishes, in this tranquil, frozen space.