Although I wrote this 38 years and 6 days ago, it sure fits the weather here in Lafayette, Indiana, today.
Gently falling, pure and white,
it make the earth so clean and bright.
A blanket covers valley and hill,
all is silent, all is still.
The maple stands half white, half brown;
half a smile, half a frown.
Nothing moves that I can see,
no tracks to mar the white beauty.
Down it drifts, three inches, four!
Still it comes and there’ll be more.
Daylight passes, twilight, too;
all in sight turns hazy blue.
The stars are shining, the moon is bright;
they twinkle gayly on flakes of white.
The beauty on the ground, extended from the skies;
a wonder to behold, a symphony for the eyes.