A winter snow

The sky is dark with clouds,
The landscape is gray and dead,
Nothing is moving.
Trees are cold and still,
Waiting, Wanting.

A deathly crow flies over head
And lands perched on a tree.
It screeches an echo but no sound
Returns.
It soon flies out into the
Dead, cold sky once again.

As the light of the deep winter
Day diminishes,
A brisk wind comes through the
Hills and sends the arms of the
Dying trees swinging.
The branches toss and turn until
They come to a stop once again.

The clouds darken and
Everything is quiet.
Small, white crystals fall from
The sky, tiny at first
But get bigger as time goes on.
They come down slowly
But then pick up the pace,
Coating everything in a
White blanket.

The snow continues over night,
But stops in the morning.
As people come out of unconsciousness,
They notice the white layer covering their yards.
Kids run out in joy and dive into the cool
Pillow that greets them.
It wraps itself around them
And holds on tight, never
Wanting to let go.