Silent icicles

Frost at Midnight

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greeness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple tree, while the night thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet moon.

~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge

It's Christmas Eve - a blessed holiday to you!