A crystalline surface covers the ground
The air is still, well, from what I can tell.
The treetops dance with sky rubies they found
A remembrance of sky crystals that fell
Trees have shed green wardrobe until April
For white, fluffy coats hanging on their boughs
Creatures on the ground have grown more careful
Of slippery tread and city snowploughs
The earth’s chill weather blankets human noise
Bundled like walking pillows we see them
And sudden wind gusts freeze all girls and boys
The Weatherman lied; we’ll curse him again.
It’s expected after eight months of strife:
Earth’s revolution against urban life
