Feathery white falling snow...
stirring softness in my soul.
Flakes adrift before my eyes,
come swirling down, beneath gray skies.
Day is still, there is no sound...
silence lying thick around.
Time itself then seems to stall
to watch the fluffy snowflakes fall.
As I watch, true peace I know,
as world turns white from falling snow.
How, I wonder, can this be?
What snow has covered, now is free!
The wind is calm, afraid to sigh,
lest the magic pass it by.
I blame not the wind for this
for God paints now with fingertips.
He paints for me in many ways
upon a canvas I call days.
Though many scenes he sets aglow,
few can match the falling snow.
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