The cold wind is howling,
the eerie song of the end of fall.
The trees are barren of leaves,
and silvery frost covers all.

All throughout the land,
is covered in a silvery sheen.
The diamond like sparkle of winter,
has replaced the summer green.

The playful squirrel and rabbits,
are no longer playing games.
Inside trees and rabbit holes,
peacefully asleep, while winter remains.

The clouds are forming of frozen breath,
and hover around your face.
Only to swirl and dissappear,
like a dream, without a trace.

All is painted in icicle white,
like a silvery looking glass.
Painted in silent beauty,
every frosted blade of grass.