The trees are whispering
As Winter creeps over the hills
Clad in silence and ermine fur

A stag in the forest pauses,
Brown almond eyes, wide and frantic
As he cloaks himself in sleep

At the top of the summit
Winter surveys her task
her breath paints flowers on the air

She waits for her king
Watching as foliage prepares for their coming
bearing their bright battle standards

Finally, he arrives, carried by the wind
He comes with ice and darkness
As her takes her hand in his

They descend, melding into one
He waltzes her across the valleys
And the stars,like lanterns, dot the sky.