The Glass Expanse

Beneath the silvered crust of ancient water, the shadows move without a sound, holding the breath of fallen pine needles and the ghosts of summer’s green.

The wind scrapes across the brittle mirror, polishing the frost into diamonds, while trapped bubbles hang suspended, frozen syllables of a forgotten song.

A solitary crow etches a line across the sky, its reflection a phantom on the ice below, leaving the world to its quiet slumber, a cathedral built of cold and light.