Cedars on the ice-blue horizon,
lonely hills shrouded in hawthorne groves
curling over the mantle of snowy white.
Tones of a breeze brush through the trees,
like adagio for wintry symphonies.
Echoes of a river
sweep along the secluded forest of gray.
Scarlet clouds streak through the sky
in twilight’s dwindling gaze.
Stones of a glade near the solemn cascade,
entwined in a starlit sewn serenade.