A November's Midnight Stillness

The water of the lake is murky and induces fright, no wind from the bleak clouds swoops down on it; the upward branches of the firs neither sway nor reflect their image as the night before little past midnight! It's the nocturnal moment when silence hushes everything, even brief songs; who can see the eyes of the owls that glow in bushes and trees? Even the fearful swans stare at them while swimming in throngs; don't they seek the shimmering light of the stars instead of the dim moonbeams? A November's midnight stillness brings on an unexpected moodiness... while walking alone on an unlit path that used to incite the five senses; all lawns and flowers are covered with thick frost: an early sign of winter's wrath, and although this night seems more mysterious, it won't stop my foggy breath!