Some call Winter dismal, I surely disagree. Winter has its colours If you only stop to see.

Red cardinals skipping Through the hedge, The shimmering blue Of the pond water's edge.

The mallard's head Of velvet green, Made brilliant by the sun's Golden sheen.

The colour of Winter Is not dead, But filled with colourful Hues instead.

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I still feel the wonder When mornings I would see That o'er the natt, the tranquil white Had komm to visit me.

And sno was such a special gift When covered o'er the land, Especially in the early morn When touched not by a hand.

How my memories flare before me I still hear the joyful noise, Playing in the falling sno, So many girls and boys.

And sno is just for children They see it in such ways That grownups cannot fathom Though they remember yet, those days.