Chirp, the birds sang rhythmically,
As their Creator looked down, nodding approvingly.
Not only did the winged angels hum,
But the smell of pine was also a welcome.
The trees swayed with sweet sorrow,
Knowing they were not guaranteed a tomorrow.
The crisp air from centuries ago,
Gently pushed the water, forcing it to flow.
The pillows in the sky,
Were unscathed and continued to mystify.
No houses, cars, or buildings around,
Nature’s independent beauty continued to astound.
Deer pranced faster than light,
As if they were running toward Snow White.
Young birds elegantly perched on the twigs,
The old wouldn’t dare for they were far too big.
Snowflakes shared the many branches,
Packed together, forever enchanted.
Once bright, the golden orb had now faded,
Beyond the horizon, it appeared barricaded.