Frost on the Fence Line: The Beauty and Hardship of Winter’s Grip

The trail might be tough, but a cowboy always finds a way forward.

Beneath the frost, the fence lines gleam,

A silver cloak, a cowboys dream.

The morning air bites, crisp and keen,

As snowflakes dance in the sun’s soft beam.

Old boots crunch through the icy crust,

Each step a whisper, a prayer, a must.

The prairie stretches, bare and wide,

Where winter’s grip and beauty trust.

A lone horse snorts, steam rising high,

With breath like clouds against the sky.

Together they face the biting cold,

Two souls entwined, beneath winters sigh.

Yet in the chill, a warmth unfolds,

In stories shared, and courage bold.

For when the frost melts with the spring,

A new adventure, the heart will bring.