The arctic white crystals,
descend and tickle each surface;
grass, stone, wood,
each flake unique.
Image the sway of it,
six sided beauties spin down,
a soft hit on the ground of glitter.
Blissfully swishing,
gracefully gliding.
A rush of snowflakes drop,
as the flurry never seems to stop,
the crisp air rejoices in the nipping wind,
snowing glitter,
blowing bitter,
as a blank canvas forms on the glistening ground.
Suddenly a chance of fortune strikes,
right before a child’s eyes,
as the incessant snowfall flurries and flies,
a sudden silence. Then cheering.
Children rush to the door.
Frantic hands, wrapping layers,
rushing outside,
their joy echoes as they play in the purest white,
building, sculpting, carving, creating,
and memories engraved in their small minds,
their laughing, a voice that rings in the dark,
as the blessing glides gracefully,
over their protected bodies,
a snowy paradise behold.