The Snow Dusting
Rolling hills,
Rolling grass,
A lone ranch,
Sits ever so silent.
In the early-morning sun,
We see a glimpse of snow,
It covered the grass and trees,
The abode and barns.
As the sun rises further,
The snow melts away,
What’s left on grass and trees,
Looks like a good morning dew.
As the sun hits high noon,
The snow is gone from the ranch,
The trees still wear their snow cover,
And a dusting still shows on the grass.
With the rolling hills,
The grass follows suit,
How beautiful the sight,
Of our white trees and snow.
Kimberly Johnson
1-12-07