Snow

Under a subdued sun,
Basking in its glory
Purity at it's best,
The snow tells a story.

I'm glanced at in awe,
As if a blooming flower,
The heavens, my origin,
I'm compared to shining stars.

My airs are always chilly,
My temperature frozen cold
I breathe mists of water,
And always play outdoors.

Passer-by's perceive me
As a stunning view,
Earth, my destination,
Rainbow is my hue.

The moon is my companion,
The trees sell me their souls,
I spread my white feathers,
Over plains, mountains and moors.

I'm trodden upon and molested
I'm shoved and heaped aside,
Yet humanity foresees my coming,
As the best of winter times.

- Sonia Doreen Paul