Dresses White

The crinkled leaf within my fist,
a fallen angel the sun has kissed;
though the season is at its end,
let us welcome our cold dark friend.
Chasing clouds from the north,
the frosty thunderheads carry forth
a paralyzing somber in the fast wind
that suspend the molecules where they spin
and drop the matter from the air
by stopping the motion that keeps it there;
ice is forming as waters expand
upon the water and within the land.
The green, green grass shrivels to dirt
and brittle trees in the breeze hurt
while the moon shines so bright
in a longer rule, in a longer night.
Soon shall come the fluffy white snow
that covers all in its falling flow
back to the place where it was water;
now Mother Earth's white cloaked daughter
coats her body in fine diamond powder
making winter all the prouder,
adorning everything in one's sight
in impeccable, formal wintry white.
The unspoken secrets no one may know
is buried beneath the virgin snow.
What is Mother Earth dreaming
in her slumber beneath the gleaming
ice and frosty pure white
of the Winter's crystal delight?
The call for children to cut her free
with sleds and boots running happily
upon her bosom is faintly heard
Mother Earth's unspoken word.
Talking softly in her sleep
of the secrets she must keep.
What does she wear beneath her gown?
A sleepy smile? A bitter frown?
That is something we shall never know.
What does Mother Earth wear beneath the snow?