The warmer winter changed;
Snow began to fly.
Snapping quick, as if an object was caught in a
Downdraft wind shear.
There is hope; we are only on the edge of the storm front.
Even now, snowflakes have changed.
Moving ever slower,
As gentle tears
Are freezing into flakes.
17 January 2020
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem