Sunlight crept over the mountain,
The air smelled of pine,
Snow encased the landscape,
Like a beautiful white tomb.
Everything was still on a cold morning,
The only sounds were Chickadees chirping softly in the distance,
Gone was warm Summer,
Even cool Autumn had taken her last bow.
Out of that silence,
I could hear a thousand things,
The gentle music of the earth,
The spirit in all things.
Gone were the days of whimsy,
Gentle reflection had passed,
Now in the harsh Winter it came time to realize how it is we can last.