Winter arrives without a sound.

The air turns cold and clean, and my breath becomes small white clouds that linger upon the gentle breeze. I pull my coat close and listen to the quiet.

The lights come on one by one.

They glow softly on houses and trees, not loud, not bright—just enough. When snow gathers on them, the colors blur and shine through the white. Red, gold, green. The snow holds the light gently, like it knows how precious it is.

Everything moves carefully now.

My steps crunch, but softly. The sky feels close. Windows glow warm, and the night doesn’t feel dark at all. I stop walking. I just look.

Winter feels like a whisper.

Snow, light, stillness.

And in that quiet glow, the world feels kind, calm, and full of magic.