I am a beam of polished glass
Watching the frozen seasons pass
I hold the light in a silver frame
Calling the winter by its name
White owl on a frozen limb
Where the purple edges dim
Listen to the winter breath
Waiting for the summer's death
Snow lays heavy on the apple tree
White as the salt of a restless sea
I keep the wick and the oil bright
Guiding the ghost of the velvet night
The orchard smells of a bitter frost
Counting the things that the autumn lost
Ice on the branch like a crystal chain
Waiting for April to bring the rain
White owl on a frozen limb
Where the purple edges dim
Listen to the winter breath
Waiting for the summer's death
The clock on the wall has a heavy beat
Iron and stone and a cold retreat
The wind is a hammer on a wooden door
Tracing a path on a dusty floor
The bird is a statue of ivory white
Searching for life in the failing light
He hears the snap of a brittle twig
While the old winter grows heavy and big
White owl on a frozen limb
Where the purple edges dim
Listen to the winter breath
Waiting for the summer's death
Keep the lamp burning low
Under the blanket of snow
