Winter’s Breath
The mountain stands in stillness, a breath of frost clinging tight, yet beneath the blanket of white, dauntless green stirs in slumber.
Snowflakes quilt the pines, a delicate lace of nature, glistening silver under night skies, a soft glow on a silent eve.
In each exhale, warmth rises, reviving what the cold has masked, as spring’s promise lingers near, one heartbeat away from dawn’s light.
- María Pizarro