Snow Fall Poem by Kate Beamish

Falling with a whisper, soft, fluttering snow,
persistently descending, deliberately slow.
Delicate flakes land one upon the other,
soon, with white blanket, everything to smother.
Temperatures near zero soon make crisp the surface,
holding, thus gently, each huge drift in its place.
Another miracle of nature, right before our eyes,
sometimes for many weeks, unchanged, this mantle lies,
at others times, surprising by the shortness of its stay,
lying briefly, overnight, in the morning melts away.