© Photo
By Loree (Mason) O'Neil
Snow flakes
drift almost lazily down,
Not driven
by cold north wind's blow...
Like someone
uncertain of direction,
Confused as to
which way to go.
Still
the flakes seem destined by nature's
design,
To
wedge in their very own
space...
Except for
those that fail to survive,
When they melt
on my hair and my face.
They cover
the grass and hide it from
view,
And slowly they
all settle in....
Followed by more
of their very own kind,
First a dusting,
then deep as my shin.
With
persistence and given plenty
of time,
Snow transforms to winter
delight...
Paints a
gray world almost as if by magic,
And turns
it to Puritan white.
(c)
02/15/07 Loree (Mason) O'Neil
Midi playing is:
Bring It
By
Gecadero
