"Snowy Night Lullaby" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
The world outside is wrapped in a hush, a silence so deep it feels as though the universe itself holds its breath. Snow falls in gentle waves, covering the earth in a thick, downy quilt, muffling the sharp edges of sound and smoothing the world into softness. And yet, if we listen closely, we will find that this silence is not empty; rather, it sings in whispers, in delicate refrains that weave a lullaby only the patient can hear.
Each snowflake, drifting lazily from the heavens, carries a note of this hushed symphony. They land upon rooftops with the faintest sigh, settle on branches with a hush no louder than a dream. The wind stirs through the evergreens, making them hum in low, resonant tones, as if the trees themselves are singing along. Icicles, delicate as glass chimes, shiver against one another, their crystalline voices barely touching the night air.
Underneath the weight of the snow, the world seems slowed, wrapped in a dreamlike state where time holds no urgency. Footsteps vanish as quickly as they are made, words are swallowed before they can linger, and even the restless heart finds a rhythm in the quietude. The snow does not merely blanket the earth; it cradles it, lulling it into a slumber both deep and eternal.
As we sink into sleep on such a night, the snow sings us into its embrace. Its lullaby is a melody of soft murmurs—the hush of snowfall, the distant sigh of wind through laden branches, the near-silent rustle of flakes upon our windowpanes. It is a music so subtle, so fragile, that only those who surrender to the night may truly hear it.
And in that moment, as dreams take flight, we are no longer separate from the world outside. We become part of the snow’s great hush, carried away on its whispered melody, floating in the quiet magic of a winter’s lullaby.
~Wylddane
Each snowflake, drifting lazily from the heavens, carries a note of this hushed symphony. They land upon rooftops with the faintest sigh, settle on branches with a hush no louder than a dream. The wind stirs through the evergreens, making them hum in low, resonant tones, as if the trees themselves are singing along. Icicles, delicate as glass chimes, shiver against one another, their crystalline voices barely touching the night air.
Underneath the weight of the snow, the world seems slowed, wrapped in a dreamlike state where time holds no urgency. Footsteps vanish as quickly as they are made, words are swallowed before they can linger, and even the restless heart finds a rhythm in the quietude. The snow does not merely blanket the earth; it cradles it, lulling it into a slumber both deep and eternal.
As we sink into sleep on such a night, the snow sings us into its embrace. Its lullaby is a melody of soft murmurs—the hush of snowfall, the distant sigh of wind through laden branches, the near-silent rustle of flakes upon our windowpanes. It is a music so subtle, so fragile, that only those who surrender to the night may truly hear it.
And in that moment, as dreams take flight, we are no longer separate from the world outside. We become part of the snow’s great hush, carried away on its whispered melody, floating in the quiet magic of a winter’s lullaby.
~Wylddane
RSS Feed