The Snow Moon rises, soft and bright,
a lantern in the winter night.
She drapes the hills in silver beams,
a quiet world of frozen dreams.

She hums a song the rivers know,
a lullaby of falling snow.
The trees stand still in crystal lace,
bathed in her cool, enchanting grace.

Each flake that drifts upon the air
is moonlight spun with tender care,
a whispered wish, a fleeting spark,
to light the soul within the dark.

Oh, Snow Moon, watch the midnight deep,
while all the world lies fast asleep.
Your gentle glow, so soft, so true,
holds every dream in shimmering blue.