Flakes of silver drift downward,
glittering in the light of a harvest moon
as they filter through the darkened forest.
Silver sparks, like nature's diamonds, scatter
before the icicle tendrils of the pale moon,
which offers no warmth but just a glow
to the sleeping world down below.
A blanket of fluffy white softness
rests on the ground outside the window,
reflecting the soft glow of light within.
I sit wrapped in the warmth of my bed,
reflecting on the winter dance I see
swirling around outside my frosted glass.
An absolute peace envelopes my soul,
as I watch the winds of winter blow,
leaving hills of icy white against the trees.
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