The dawn of day was witness to,
a transformation of the land.
The night had seen the change unfold,
unique creations of His Hand.
So many made, while slumber reigned,
no two alike, these crystals, white.
The billions softly touched the earth,
as breezes shaped them in the night.
The frozen-cotton, covered boughs,
as rays of sun climb winters hills.
To see the splendor made by frost,
on window panes and window sills.
The curvy mounds shaped 'round the trunks,
where blown about the feet of trees.
And leaves that peek through snowy white,
at wonderous winter scenes like these.
Their lives so short; a day or week,
or season at the very most.
To disappear when spring is nigh,
like figment of a vanished ghost.
But first they must adorn each twig,
and blade of grass and lowly weed.
Essential act required by some,
to germinate their precious seed.
And map the many tiny feet,
of creatures that have braved the night.
With fan-shaped swirls at end of tracks,
where birds of prey have taken flight.
To crown each post and stone and wall,
the royalty of winters scene.
Look down upon the snowscape, white,
approve each subjects bow and lean.
Then melt to slush and hang from twigs,
and drip and drop like tear-shaped jewels.
The tiny trickles congregate,
to create icy winter pools.
Returned to earth, from whence they came,
The same as you, the same as me.
Water to water, "...dust to dust,"
perpetuates His Plan, you see.