The world lies in a quiescent state;
Darkness robs even more of the light
from a planet
steadily growing colder.

Sounds of the breeze exhaling down the
spine of the Old Oak makes me
cringe. What's happened
to the songs of the forest?

This woodland heart, frozen solid by
Old Man Winter's icy fingertips,
sleeps peacefully
among lives that are on pause.

A bitter kiss from the old man's lips
and we are prepared for our slumber.
Eternal dreams
preface our resurrection.