“THE SNOW CYCLE"
(Spring 2005)

Featured in my book Pieces of Me

Dropping like a feather from the sky’s gray cover
Blankets of diamonds on a chilly winter’s day
Blind the naked eye of people to uncover
A hidden inner child screaming out for play
Dressing trees and buildings that once stood bare
Drawing imprints of shuffling feet through the carpet
Of white decorating the surroundings there
And cars that like turtles now slide on four feet
Down streets that glow in this milky wonderland
To be eaten away by the crystals of salt
Melting each crop morphing into wet sand
Sending this beauty back to the vault
Until Mother Nature is yearning for play
And weaves balls of cotton to liven the day

© Copyright 2005 by Lena Kovadlo

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Here are the first two versions of this poem:

 “THE SNOW CYCLE (version 1)”
(Spring 2005)

Blankets of diamonds on a chilly winter’s day
Drop like a feather from the sky’s gray cover
Blinding the naked eye of people to uncover
A hidden inner child screaming out for play
Drawing imprints of shuffling feet through the carpet
Of white decorating the surroundings there
Dressing trees and buildings that once stood bare
And cars that like turtles now slide on four feet
Down streets eaten away by the crystals of salt
Melting each crop morphing into wet sand
That flows in this once milky wonderland
Sending this beauty back to the vault
Until Mother Nature is yearning for play
And weaves balls of cotton to liven the day

© Copyright 2005 by Lena Kovadlo

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“THE SNOW CYCLE (version 2)”
(Spring 2005)

Blankets of diamonds on a chilly winter’s day
Drop like a feather from the sky’s gray cover
Blinding the naked eye of people to uncover
A hidden inner child screaming out for play
Dressing trees and buildings that once stood bare
Drawing imprints of shuffling feet through the carpet
Of white decorating the surroundings there
And cars that like turtles now slide on four feet
Through streets that glow in this milky wonderland
To be eaten away by the crystals of salt
Melting each crop morphing into wet sand
Sending this beauty back to the vault
Until Mother Nature is yearning for play
And weaves balls of cotton to liven the day

© Copyright 2005 by Lena Kovadlo