The Great Production

The Great Production Upon a soft morning a child awoke. There he arose from his bed and then told, ‘See, father! see! Mother Nature, she spoke!’ As the snow had powdered down, oh so bold. Flakes all falling and ever so, so soft, Gleaming white on earth, cover, a blanket. Here shimmering with the delight aloft, Tinkling, the green fairy, with her trinket. Children, they adore the production, Mothers and fathers grow weary, tired. Scurrying below, critters hibernation, But all in all, happy faces to paint. Slowly and quiet, everywhere now, Winter, it’s appetite, wants for a bow.