No Hint of End In Sight
White tiny flakes fall from the sky
dancing wildly as they fly in the wind.
I look about as they fall from high;
to the earth near and far they descend.
Each one made with the greatest skill
by the Artist far beyond compare.
All about me they land laying white and still
forming a canvas where no two look like a pair.
Endlessly these little flakes come
with no hint of end in sight.
As they fall, they change the landscape from
earth's brown to winter's pure white.
Douglas L. Ace
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