Within ashen sky, glistening falling flakes flow.
I hear them, whispering gently to and fro,
Not saying a word, they speak gently to me.
Telling me of beauty above, I’ll never see.
Each one a different wonder of life’s bliss,
Rendering, touching crystal clarity, not to miss,
Surrendering glory of nature, with snow,
Before my eyes, smothering green, glittering so
Lazily lying upon all, silvery frosty covers adrift,
Announcing another season, arriving now swift.
Now the sound of crunching, an allegory,
Kidnaping moment, amidst such glory,
Each day continuing, upon nightfall glisten,
True sensations, winters blanket disposition.
written by Cecil Hickman
date written 11-19-12