The light did hit the snow, casting a shadow,

A shadow of the fallen beauty, gone,

Make the bright reds, oranges, and yellows

Shine with the light of a bright morning dawn.

Dew does fall from the towering oak trees,

Drifting to the ground with a grace

Only found in the beauty of this ease

At which the wood makes this natural space.

The bleak and bareboned trees rise into the sky,

Grey and desolate, stand alone with poise,

Barely alive, but behold! The spring is nigh!

Snow leaves, as comes the jubilant spring noise,

Life returning to the barren land.

Nature’s display of beauty, fully fanned.