Golden Stillness
16”x12” oil on linen panel
Beneath the weight of winter's shroud,
The earth lies still, the wind unbowed.
A path winds soft where footsteps fall,
And silence hums its ancient call.
The trees stand stark, their branches bare,
As though they claw the frosted air.
And yet their patience seems to say,
"Let time go on—let cold have sway."
A maiden fair with coat of gold,
Moves mournfully through winter’s cold.
The reeds like whispers bend and sigh,
While snow drifts softly from the sky.
The barn stands red against the white,
A quiet blaze of warming light.
Its roof with winter's burden crowned,
A fortress on the frozen ground.
Here, time slows down, the world is still,
The heart subdued, the mind grown chill.
For in this hush, this golden glow,
There’s peace that only stillness knows.
