Snow

Seems no one cares for "winter rains", So white and wet and cold; Drifting down so silently, As we huddle 'neath the folds, Of coats and scarfs and woolen hats, And yearn for days of summer, Complaining 'bout the wet and cold, Of winter being a bummer. The ice, the snow, the slippery roads, Slow going for the traveler, Are fodder for these transgressed souls, And fuel their heated palaver; But there are those who glory in, The changes of the seasons. The kaleidoscope of colors used, Sets moods that give us reason, To celibrate the time of year, And it's exquisite beauty. In nature things are balanced well, And each thing has it's duty. From mineral, plant and animal, To the elements themselves, We need them each and every one, For life to go on well. So don't complain about the snow. It's moisture that we need. It feeds the rivers, streams and lakes, Amid the summer's heat. It adds a pristine beauty, As it covers trees and yards, Feeding imaginations, Of painters, scribes and bards. Judy Ball