Snowstorm Poem by Flora Johnson

As the wind demons shove the snow from the trees,
The delicate flakes drench the ground in crystal white freeze.
While the air is brisk and cold,
The snow is only two months old.
The icicles hanging lazily from their tree,
When they melt, that’s fine with me.
Snowballs soaring through the air,
To be hit seems so rare.
The wind floating so gracefully,
Flying through the sky aimlessly.
The rain slowly returning,
Can’t wait to see the campfire burning.
The blades of grass popping from the ground,
And the birds making their beautiful sound
Looks like it must be spring,
This makes me want to sing!