There’s a peace in the touch of cold air

There’s a peace in the touch of cold air,

And boughs that brush upon the frozen glass,

Through it I stare into the naked wood,

And draw life from the breath of its long rest.

 

Nature now walks through this long dark passage

And all must yield to a silent repose

Under a grey sky and the falling snow,

To long last rise like the dawn of the morn.