White Morning

Wake up to the white wonder
Crunching beneath my feet.
The nymphs of winter dance and the sun laughs.
What a kind old one, the sun,
Ability to destroy these nymphs in a wave,
But allows their gay rituals.
They rest in the treetops and along our roofs
To dance until the spring
When the clouds call them back to nestle.
Sleep sweet till next season.

White Morning

Jaiided

Joined February 2008

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