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The arctic air with a bristly chill.

It’s ten below, but feels colder still.

It slaps the face

like an ice cold mace,

and the fingertips are numb

with a stiffened thumb.

Breath into the air

forms tiny crystals

that fall to the ground

with a glistening glare.

Ice and snow continues to fall

one on top of another

and the same dark cloud

tends to continuously hover.

The brooks are frozen over

and the days are getting even colder.

Underground animals are burrowed deep,

at least three feet.

Animals of the air

are nestled in a hole in the trees,

as well as warm well made nests

to protect from the winter breeze.

Icicles hang off

of what greenery can be seen,

shining with a hint of gleam.

Nothing stirs, no noises

can be heard,

just the quietness of snow falling

and the unspoken word.