Whisperings in the Wood

The Greenwood is wrapped in a soft white blanket and the air is sprinkled with a frosting of rime.  Leaves are outlined with a dusting of glittering white. Every branch is like a spectral bony finger stretched out to its tip.  The sun is exiled behind a dense cloud of fog. Cobwebs are petrified in ice.The world is silent and still and the birds have forgotten how to sing.