It came

From above

So small

Some large

But each unique

So light

But yet

Once melted

On the warmth

Of the skin

That water weighs

Crunch is

The sound

Of it

Collected underfoot

But there was

No sound

As it fell

Watch for it

When it turns

To ice

As that crunch

Is lost and it is

Smooth and slippery

But yet again

Its blanket

Of whiteness

In its

Purest form

Will transform

Anything

Into

A winter wonderland

Undeniably beautiful

-Jennie Nawrocki