a symphony in frost

it is absolutely still, clear and cold. a wintery sun peeks wanly over the horizon, its pinkish golden light illuminating the heavy hoarfrost that has settled onto the trees. the sky is a clear, clean blue so brilliant it seems unreal. the still air so fresh and cold it makes your very lungs feel alive as you breathe it in. and in the stillness of that cold, glittering world, you begin to hear a glorious symphony of sorts which seems to be coming from the frost itself.