The frozen spruce is waiting for the sun

The frozen spruce is waiting for the sun
 By the riverbank stands the spruce, still and dressed in the fragile garb of winter. Rime and snow have settled like a thin veil over the branches, and the tree bends gently towards the water as if listening to the whispering course of the river.
 Behind the trunk, the river reflects the forest, caught in a play of ice and light. Small ripples break the reflection, but the calm is unwavering – a winter night’s peace, where time seems to stand still. Everything rests in anticipation, in waiting.
 The sun is still hidden, but its presence is sensed in the light that breaks through the treetops in the distance. The frozen spruce, bound by the cold, stretches out in patient longing – waiting for the warmth, for the light, for life to return. A moment frozen in the deep calm of nature.