Quickly the earth turns from crisp brown to icy white
A soft blanket of snow settling over her, while she slumbers through the frozen night.
Her bright colors have been tenderly folded away for now,
Trusting in the spring, they’ll return again somehow
It’s the type of cold that makes even the mighty pine stand still.
An earie kind of quite creeps, painting ice on every window sill.
While her children all keep warm by a fire snuggled close
The crackling flames dance merrily, happy to warm fingers and warm toes.
Time slips by in the shaken up, snow globe world until
the frozen heaps begin to melt, and trickling streams begin to fill.
And the parts of her that all seemed buried deep beneath the icy snow
Start to bloom again and perfectly afresh begin to grow.