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White stars upon the window glass, so perfect in their shape,
Transluscent beauty, momentary though appreciated for it's charm,
That shows the world creation in it's style and perfect shape,
Then melts into oblivian, beyond the reach of harm.

The field was covered with a coat of white that reached that line,
Between the sky and earth below, where clouds were cold and grey,
Filled up with snow to puffiness, a nature so divine,
Reminding human beings of a perfect Winter's day.

That snow flake died upon the window, though is was replaced,
By yet another slow flake, with it's shape and form unique,
Down dismal wetted glass it ran, I watched it as it race,
And the beauty took my breath away, I lost the words to speak.

God in his wisdom made a snowflake that he shared with me,
I looked, discovered beauty, and he timed it perfectly.

Learn more about this author, Dave Franklin.
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