Every winter bares a sadness,
Icy winds paint frosty panes.
Gone the golden hues of harvest,
Naked lay these prairie plains.

Midnight moon shines down upon,
These barren trees that guard the night.
Piercing cries break through the silence,
Graceful hawk has taken flight.

While the gray skies cast their shadows,
Icy prisms start to fall.
Over hills and through the valleys,
Pristine whiteness blankets all.

From the distance heard coyotes,
Symphony of haunting howls...
Echoing through rolling meadows,
Hungry sentries on the prowl.

In the wind the tall reeds bending,
I behold them in a trance.
They whisper Mother Nature’s secrets,
Swaying to December’s dance.