The Frozen Pond

In a clearing at the edge of town, I came across a frozen pond, its surface reflecting the pale light of the overcast sky. Children skated and laughed while their parents watched, bundled in scarves and hats. The scene was alive with joy, yet it carried a sense of winter’s calm.

An elderly man stood by the edge, leaning on his cane as he watched the children play. He turned to me with a smile. “Winter reminds us of the cycles,” he said, gesturing to the ice. “Stillness and activity, rest and growth—they’re all part of the rhythm. Even the ice here isn’t frozen forever; it’s just waiting for spring.”

I looked out at the skaters, the laughter echoing against the still landscape, and felt the weight of his words settle in my heart. Winter, I realized, is not just a pause—it’s a moment of gathering strength, a reminder to honor the quiet season of the soul.