“‘Tis a very good morning,” thought the snow, when the sun felt too tired to come out.
She had come over the night, she took over the sky. Her sisters, the clouds, helped her on her dive.
Now she rests on every crevice, on every branch, on every plant, on every path.
She waits for people to see her, her glimmering beauty, her jaunty heart.
She wants to play, to seek and hide.
She enjoys the dogs that run about her and those with souls full of laughter.
But her hours of magic and laughter are few, soon they’ll be gone.
She spreads her fluffs of powdery crystals, in hopes to stay just a bit more.
Alas, the sun is waking, she knows he must shine on. But she asks him for a day or two of playtime, she’s just not ready to go.
The sun, cozy in the fog, decides to give her the time she is hoping for.
So she reigns all over the Canyon, bright, lively, and strong.
An incurable passion for writing; a poet at heart. I am a writer on the road.