Your lovely poem reminds me of a few immortal lines by poet laureates such as: "If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind" from Ode to the West Wind by Percy Bysshe Shelley; "And miles to go before I sleep" from Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost;  "Listen, Sorrow, beloved, to the soft approach of Night." from Meditation by Charles Baudelaire. The English, American and French poets respectively express their feelings on Winter, just like you, a Chinese poet lost in snowy night somewhere, with sentiments already written or still fermenting. Winter is a melancholy beauty with a somber coat.