To Those Who Watch Snow

The soft wind whistled across the snow,
Like sandy dunes it moved to and fro,
The sidewinder's rhythm, the powdery dust,
The biting winter's cold, cruel mistrust,
The barren land, the endless white,
It seemed to glow extraordinarily bright,
The trees' covered branches, hung with cold,
They seemed so dead, so dark, so old,
The dark skies, so bleak and so gray,
The sun would not shine, day after day,
Adding on to the endless chill,
With the wind's constant screaming, ever so shrill,
The only sound that pierced through the land,
The only thing keeping it from becoming so bland,
And dying off like the rest of the life,
The snow tried to cover earth's endless strife,
The wounded earth, the dying pains,
Contradicted only by white's pure stains,
Everything everywhere falling apart,
But soon the world will begin to restart,
The sun's rays will pierce the dark gray sky,
Birds will once again roam and fly,
Leaves will grow on barren trees,
Life will return, deer, birds, and bees,
Rain will come and for many months more,
Green grass will color the once white floor,
Blue will cover up overhead,
Once more will life conquer over the dead,
Until once more the white powder is seen,
By eyes ever vigilant, so cool and serene,
Then ice and snow will take back the key,
And return the earth to simplicity.