In the field of white
Everything is coated from head to toe
In a icy blanket
Of crisp sparkling snow.
The path that often takes
Us past the little duck pond
Crunches beneath our feet
White with snow and far beyond.
We can see the ice
With frozen ducks and drakes
Huddled from the cold wind
And the falling snowflakes.
The force of the snow
Has detached and thrown
Down to the base of the tree
The pretty fragrant fir cone.
It is placed in the basket
Covered in melting ice
It will decorate the fireplace
With berries and cinnamon spice.
There is a sense of magic everywhere
On each and every stone and rock
Twinkling diamonds reflected by the sun
Wet underfoot seeping in my shoe and sock.
Toes feel like little blocks of pure ice
Must make the way back to the roaring fire
Hot chocolate and toast sounding nice
Take off my icy clothes and into something drier.
The snow from my window looks inviting
The red of the berry against the blue of the snow.
The smile on my face tells the story
Nice and warm where the wind cannot blow.