The air hangs heavy, crisp, and deep,
While sleepy nature lies asleep.
A chilly breath the north wind sighs,
Reflected in the leaden skies.
Upon the pane, a filigree,
The crystal workings I can see.
Where water touched the sudden cold,
A glassy sheen, a story told.
The pond now wears a coat of ice.
It waits for night’s supreme decree,
When temperatures fall utterly.
The very ground begins to stiffen,
A sudden shudder, quick and often.
The river’s flow will slow and freeze.
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Three Things Challenge #MM247 | pensitivity101
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