Winter angels, fly over snowy mountains,
wrapped up in their woolly clothes.
Flap their little wings to nearest cabins,
warm chimney fire, tasty hot broth.

Little angels, circling around,
fly down to to the canyon
to a farmhouse of sheep and cows
and a sneaky peak from a little mouse.
Sleep with warmth of lambs in hay,
soft animal sounds soothe til next day.

Winter Angels, fly towards the sun,
after giggling at their inventive snowman.
Bask their wings in the warming rays
as Spring has arrived for ninety days.