All in a Winter's Night

Between the howls of the wind, there is a stillness, a pause that speaks in a voice too soft for the hurried ear. The world contracts, folding into itself beneath the weight of frost, and in that moment, I learn the language of waiting. Tree branches rattle like old thoughts scraping against the edges of sleep, each creak a reminder that even the barest things hold their ground. They do not break, only bend, offering their silence as proof of endurance. The full moon spills its knowing across the frozen earth, silver light carving paths where footsteps hesitate. In its glow, I see the shape of my own solitude, a quiet lesson in reflection, a gentle hand guiding me beyond the dark. All in a winter’s night, I find wisdom not in the storm, but in the space it leaves behind.