The leaves have flown with nature's green,
And the warmth of summer is nowhere seen,
When the first bright flakes come floating down,
Crystal gems made to cover Earth's brown.
Glittering, glistening--hiding every flaw
With hidden potential waiting for the thaw.
Then the winter begins to settle in.
The days get shorter, patience starts to thin.
The snow no longer glistens quite as bright,
But stabs at the viewer with daggers of white.
The cold, wet wind blows in more mounds of slush,
Freezing even bird song into a silent hush.
And just when all think that they can bear no more,
And a path round the room is worn into the floor.
Just when we think the icicles cannot grow another inch,
And to move the snow and ice we'll need a crane or a winch.
That's when the sun shines on an ending to our pain,
Until the clouds roll in, and it starts to snow again!
Spring is coming. Tale care. Stick.