Step quietly now—
the forest waits, 
its breath thin and cold,
 its arms bare against the pale sky. The earth is muffled,
 a soft hymn of frost
 woven through the roots.
 The trees, stark and honest,
 stand like elders
 watching time slow. Do not rush. 
Even the wind moves cautiously here, 
a measured murmur
through the pines. See how the light falls, 
scattered and subdued, 
how shadows stretch long ,
reaching for something unseen. This is the pause—
the holy hush of winter .
Lean in,
feel the stillness settle
 like snow on your skin.
 The forest will teach you
how to wait.