Soft blankets cover your world,

Trees lose their very last leaves,

Children run outside in the crisp breeze,

And play in the snow all day long.

Small streams turn to ice,

And the occasional bird soars through the skies,

While small critters sleep underground,

Waiting for spring to come around.

As icicles hanging start to melt,

And the snow begins to disappear,

While animals wake up,

But you know that these miracles,

Will come again in three quarters of a year.