Cottony swabs cover

The bright golden jewel of the sky,

And the arid milieu turns frigid

So not a bird can fly.

A soft white flake soon falls,

Frosty and unique

Followed by many another,

Covering the mountain peak.

In stark contrast to the rest,

A dark and looming green,

Shadows the fair bright ground beneath it,

One of reserved and mean.

The once flowing lake stands still

Chilled to the core

Yet underneath her frigid surface,

Fishes swim yet more.

And the arctic reverie swirls on

As the icy winter proceeds

and snow swirls and whirls around

like the tiniest of seeds.