Winter comes with a blast of white,
Away from which some flee with fright.

Others welcome with open arms,
The frigid snow despite it’s harms.

Crystals of sliver floating with ease,
Though the bows of sleeping trees.

Balanced on gusts of gentle air,
Having left behind all earthly care.

Upon the cold ground they lie,
Like fine white sand from the sky.

A beauty which no hymn has told,
An enchanting power - frozen cold.