wind and whirls and snow asunder
I just sit in here and wonder
if I was but a tiny flake
what difference in this world I'd make

indistinguishable from others? No
each path unique, each flake a glow
without each lattice crystal form
with what should winter be adorned?

Its just begun, and so I spy,
follow each  flake from eye to eye
now in one spot I hold my gaze
then the visage is a a haze

A silken veil has  taken place
of the sparse white beard
on  Mother's face
Her youth has been restored again
the flakes, her wrinkles they did mend

So I see now, it is quite plain
that not one flake did melt in vain