Yes, snow reappears every winter, but to a child it's magical just like Christmas.
|Nose pressed to the frosted window Emily bounces on tiptoe. "I knew it. I knew it would snow." Adds a clap to her squeal, her crow. She oohs and aahs at the magic sight. Winter white for Christmas Eve night. A gift that glistens, enchants, glows. Presents without ribbons, or bows. "Snow sparkles," she breathes a whisper. "Diamond dust," nods the sister. "Fuzzy feathers that float," sighed one, "brushed with silver sprinkles for fun." "I like that the snow shimmers, swirls. It seems to dance with twinkles, twirls." "I'm a snowflake," laughs Emily. As she spins, arms held wide, slowly. Back to the glass, starlit tableau. Two sisters stare wide-eyed at snow. The trees stand silent-shadow tall. Branches draped in glimmery shawls. The falling flakes blanket the ground. Powdery pillows cushion sound. "Santa will be here for sure, right?" "Yes , just like us he'll feel delight." ( 24 lines ) a traditional rhyming poem|