The Prairie’s Frozen Silence: A Moment of Stillness in the Dead of Winter

Out here, every cowboy knows that fortune favors the bold.

In winter’s clutch, the prairies lie,

A blanket white neath a slate-gray sky.

The towering peaks, in silence, loom,

As nature holds its breath in frosty gloom.

The lone cowboy rides, with reins drawn tight,

Through biting winds that howl with fright.

His breath, a plume in the chilling air,

A ghostly dance of the colds sharp stare.

With leather boots in snowdrifts deep,

He hears the stillness, a secret to keep.

The wild oak stands, bare and alone,

Each branch a story, ice-carved and honed.

Yet in the quiet, a spark ignites,

As stars emerge in the winter nights.

A hope reborn on the frozen plain,

For spring will rise, and with it, the rain.