Powder Down

Flurries come in abundance from the atmospheres Snow reveals the powder down from clouds No sound, no one knows but someone cares The cascades, the turning trees, bent bushes They all put on some extra weight in solid form Cold seems to hold each flake intact Over bold mountains rolling Floating on soft wind, over water ways, so much gray The untold color of snow astounds, amazes On the distance you dare not whisper what it means it's name must stay a mystery Sacred observations should remain unsaid Calling snow red would be a blasphemy Pure things come down from heaven clear Soar on the old sonata songs in silence Powder down along the winding river Building perfect drifts by frozen banks to cover winter