In winter's icy grip, the world is still, As frost and snow envelop all in chill. The air is crisp, a breath of frozen steel, A biting wind that steals your very zeal. Too cold for words, too cold for breath, The silence echoes through the frosted heath. A hush descends upon the land, As nature's beauty takes a frozen stand. The trees are bare, their branches stark, A skeletal frame against the dark. Their leaves have fled to warmer climes, Leaving only memories in chilly times. The sun is low, a golden orb of light, Its warmth a distant memory in sight. The sky is gray, a canvas of despair, A winter's day that's beyond compare. Too cold for warmth, too cold for cheer, The heart is heavy with a sense of fear. But still we stand, against the frigid blast, For in this frozen land we find our cast. Too cold for comfort, too cold for grace, Yet still we find a beauty in this place.