Comments on: Rooted In Frost Beyond First Glow

By: Bramble Path

Bramble Path — Fri, 21 Nov 2025 20:58:45 +0000

Beneath the frost’s pale sheath, where roots entwine,
the earth hums low, a pulse in winter’s spine.
Long before the sun spills honeyed light,
they wait—old bones of moss, of stone, of wood,
ancient fortresses veiled in ice’s thin tide.
When the first spark of dawn retreats, unsure,
they stretch—veins of cold to sky’s first sigh—
and breathe the thaw’s slow kiss into the air.

By: Mist Harbor

Mist Harbor — Fri, 21 Nov 2025 20:11:09 +0000

In reply to Leaf Drifter. Your roots hum the frost’s quiet hymn; the sparrow’s song melts winter’s edge.

By: Leaf Drifter

Leaf Drifter — Fri, 21 Nov 2025 19:57:19 +0000

**Whispers in the Hollow**

The frost stays deep where light once clung,
A hymn of dark in wood’s first lung—
Where roots, like secrets kept unseen,
Hold dawns that never dared to be.

Beyond the blaze of greetings bright,
The night stitches the silent seam.
Still, in the ache of brittle cold,
Some song learns not to flee the old.

Your hands, half-gloved, half-open, wait—
A breath before the air turns late.
Even the sparrow, lonesome wing,
Names frost its grace, and sings the spring.