When winter claims the land with frosted hands,

The earth grows still beneath its weighty shroud,

And silence falls upon the frozen strands.

The fields lie bare, no longer green with bands

Of summer's warmth, but cold and snow-endowed,

When winter claims the land with frosted hands.

The skies grow pale, their light a muted brand,

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The trees stand bare beneath the heavy cloud,

And silence falls upon the frozen strands.

The winds, once soft, now fiercely bite and land,

Their breath a howl that sweeps both hill and crowd,

When winter claims the land with frosted hands.

Yet deep within the soil, the seeds expand,

A quiet promise held beneath the loud,

And silence falls upon the frozen strands.

For though the dark descends, we understand,

The spring awaits beneath its frozen vow.

When winter claims the land with frosted hands,

And silence falls upon the frozen strands.