Snow...

I see the snow,
Falling fast and sleek,
How it comes, I can not know,
Floating high and flying low,
So cold, and light, and weak,

Racing through an alley,
Turning round a bend,
These flakes, they do not dally,
As they run to reach their tally,
Melting drifts with holes to mend,

These simple little snow flakes,
Tiny glints of moon's soft light,
Falling down in vast white lake,
Leaving nothing in its wake,
But quite, peaceful night,

A gleam of flying fairy ships,
On wings of star shaped hearts,
Falling down on graceful trips,
With out a pause for plan or scripts,
Each dive a graceful art,

Where do these crystals come from?
Where do they make their berth?
These little tiny snowman crumbs,
Each without out thought of what they become,
As they glide down to the earth,

Every flake a blessing,
None ever the same,
Every touch expressing,
Love and hope's caressing,
Through every cold and bitter pain.