II. The First Snowfall

The first snowfall of winter is gently floating down,
it doesn't seem to settle, only hover over town.
And in the quiet stillness, unbroken silent sound,
a snowflake wanders slowly to its
place upon the ground.

Peering through my window, I watch the
snowflakes dance
in a silent pirouette that leaves their
fate to chance.
As each one tumbles softly in misty
shrouds of white,
I somehow know the snow will last the night.

Could it be I'm dreaming, or could it be I'm right;
do the snowflakes really fall in
patterns made of light?
Twisting, ever turning, softly falling flakes of down,
angels' pillows gently come to rest upon the town.

First snowfall, the first snowfall,
the first snowfall of winter.

  Words and music by Jane Ellen  

Published and © 1990 by Shawnee Press, Inc.
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