Snow covered conifers get me every time. I love ’em!

Winter

The now fell softly through the night

And in the morn, behold

A glorious picture crystal bright

To my vision now unforlds.

 

I gaze with wonder and delight

At such a scene as this.

The earth is robed in purest white,

And nothing seems amiss.

 

For every tree and every bough

With reverence bending low

Seems as in prayer for tender care,

And the peaceful scene below.

 

And on each bough and each fine twig

A thousand diamonds shine,

And cast their sparkling glory forth

A picture most sublime.

 

The fool, and he alone hath said

In his heart, “There is no God,”

But all around us men can see

His marvelous works of love.

— Emma Thornley —