Winter

I see through the misty glass there upon my wall,

So frosted with wintry snow.

The forest floor gleaming with snowfall.

The frail pine trees so easily grasping the winter weather

Not a sound was composed from the birds

For they had long since flown south to escape the harsh, stinging weather of what we know as winter.

I look out upon my forest. My forest.

Warm fire crackling at my side,

Everything seems so bitter and cold to everyone.

Everything looks so beautiful to me.