**In Winter's White Cloak**

Silent prowler, cloaked in frost's embrace,
You navigate the winter woods, unseen,
A flicker in the periphery of day,
Your slender form, in fur of white, pristine.

When twilight weaves its tapestry of gray,
You thread the needle through the deepening night,
A ghostly hunter, agile in the fray,
The snow, your canvas, blank and pure, alight.

Within the sanctum of the ancient pines,
Your secrets dwell, in burrows deep and cold,
A lineage traced through labyrinthine lines,
Where primal instincts intertwine with bold.

Oh, stoat, with ermine guise, you court the wind,
A paradox of purity and might,
Both predator and prey, your fate is twinned,
In nature's cruel, yet harmonious rite.

The seasons turn, and with them, so do you,
Your coat, a testament to time's decree,
From white to brown, as skies shift from their blue,
Your form, a cipher of the earth and sea.

Thus, wrapped in mystery, you dance alone,
An enigma in the frozen dawn's first light,
The wild's relentless call, your monotone,
A testament to life's unyielding fight.
---
The poem captures the stoat's transformation to ermine in winter, its role as both predator and prey, and its existence within the harsh yet beautiful natural world.

#To all writco family.
Just one more step.
© faintest_pen