I stare at the white ice crystals,
As they fall, so peacefully to the ground,
They travel so far, floating free,
When they land, never making a sound.
Like an artist painting a picture,
They are slowly turning everything, the color white,
They can shut down airports, and roadways,
With little effort or might.
The peaceful atmosphere they create,
Seems to catch and hypnotize, every eye around,
Bringing back memories to the older people,
As the children, run up the hill to slide back down.
The air temperature controls their destiny,
How long they will be in our town,
As the warmer rays of the sun, come our way,
They slowly melt, into the thawing ground.
The Original: Tom Maxwell © 1/29/2022 AD
7: 45 am
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem