Oh, the Snow! The Snow!
A March Reflection on the Magic and Miracle of Snow

March has arrived! Hurray! Hurray!
Yet winter still lingers, refusing to stray.
The sun glows above, but the air stays cold,
As the snow keeps falling—brilliant and bold.
It blinds if you stare—too long, it’s too bright!
A dazzling shimmer, a world wrapped in light.
Oh yes, they all warn you—"Don't stare at the sun!"
But stare at the snow, and your sight is undone!
The glare, oh the glare! It bounces, it beams,
It flashes like mirrors, it dazzles, it gleams!
So grab your sunglasses, your sunscreen too,
For winter’s sun burns, and it sneaks up on you!
It tricks you, deceives you, so silent, so cold,
Yet leaves you as pink as a sunset of gold.
The winds—they grow wicked, they howl and they race,
Sweeping the snow with a ghostly embrace.
Like sands in the desert, it shifts and it sways,
Erasing all traces of footsteps and days.
But wait—look closer! The wind’s not just cruel,
It carves and it sculpts with a masterful tool.
It shapes little valleys, it etches fine lines,
A canvas of patterns, of ripples and signs.
The sky remains dazzling, a sharp, frozen blue,
As north winds keep stirring, they dance and they strew—
Lifting the snow from the shimmering ground,
Sending it swirling and twirling around.
But wait! Oh, wait! If you squint just a bit,
You'll see how it dances, how snowflakes can flit!

They twirl and they tumble, they swirl in the breeze,
They whisper, they shimmer, they cling to the trees.
Each flake is a wonder—no two are the same,
A miracle falling, yet few know its name.
So tiny! So weightless! Yet watch how they grow,
Drifting together to blanket below.
One flake is nothing—it melts in your hand,
But millions, oh millions, can cover the land!
Inches, then feet, then miles unrolled,
A sea made of crystals, more precious than gold.
Yet people! Oh, people! They grumble, they groan,
"It’s freezing! It’s wet! And I’m stuck here at home!"
They see only troubles, the hassle, the mess—
Not the wonder, the magic, the world at its best.
They call it just science, they say it’s just weather,
I say it’s a miracle, light as a feather.
A whisper from somewhere, a soft little sign,
Reminding us pause, reminding us time.
For life moves too quickly, so fast, such a race—
And then comes the snow… slowing the pace.
It hushes, it softens, it blankets the land,
It asks us to stop, to just be, to just stand.
Look up! The branches traced silver and white,
Outlined in frost, etched clear in the light.

Look down! The footprints—some tiny, some deep,
Stories of creatures that wander and creep.
March is a promise—spring’s coming, it’s true,
But winter still lingers, there’s time left for you.
Time to listen, to marvel, to savor the slow,
Before it all melts, before it must go.
So make a snowball! A snowman! A snow angel too!
Let yourself play, if just for a few.
For snow, like the days, drifts away in a blink—
Here one day, gone the next—gone before you can think.
And when the cold lifts, when the frost slips away,
When the sun melts the hush into puddles of gray,
Life stirs, it stretches, it reaches for more—
Just as it always has, always before.
So take this last moment, this last bit of rest,
Let winter’s white wonder sink into your chest.
For soon it will fade, the green will break through,
But for now—just for now—the snow waits for you.

About the Creator
Xine Segalas
"This is my art - and it's dangerous!" Okay, maybe not so dangerous, but it could be - if - when I am in a mood.
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