The snowflakes fall quietly upon the shrubs,
by Joseph T. Renaldi
And glitter like heavenly stars,
A variety of shapes from the clouds above,
Causing my thoughts to wander far.
No snowflake is quite alike,
A fact proven through the years,
But holding them in the palm of my hand,
The melting process soon appears.
Delicate and elaborate that they are,
In an instant they are gone.
A short-lived joy my hand can hold,
A sign of nature's extraordinary bond.