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Frosted glass before my eyes,
I peer through to a winter's day.
Gray cloud cannot touch me,
Except to darken my sunny thought.
Lifeless yet full of life in its silence,
Does the snowfall paint its barren landscape.
To hush the golds and yellows of fall,
Winters pure white enwraps the land completely.
In silence drifting down, floating,
So the snow does aimlessly fall.
With the quietest of whispers, flakes do alight;
Covers barren ground like a winter quilt.
Drapes branches so leafless, as an artist's brush,
To highlight bark's tone and texture.
Bright white to contrast sullen gray,
Snowy outline rests upon barren limbs.
Winter's quiet touch upon the Earth,
Gentles my thought and soul.
So softly the snow does rest upon the ground,
Hurried thoughts fade to a sigh.
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