A stork stands tall in evening’s gleam, Silent watcher of thawing stream, Its shadow stretched on wooden height, A herald of the fading night. The pond lies still in golden rest, Ice and ripples coalesce, Soft winds murmur, low and sweet, As winter melts beneath its feet. The pond reflects the melting frost, A season fades, yet nothing’s lost. The air is soft, the hush is deep, The earth awakes from frozen sleep, One final sigh, a parting glow, As winter whispers, letting go.