The Promise of Snow

I stand by the road on a cold winter day.
The sky up above me is heavy and gray.

It covers the sun like an old iron skillet.
I say the word: “snow.” And then I ask, “Will it?”

A few moments later, just before dark,
something touches my face … a cold crystal spark.

I remember that word … that wondrous word: “snow.”
And secretly I smile, for I’m the first one to know.

And though I know snowflakes are never the same,
soon they’re falling together, and they share the same name.

The next day I wake, and the world is all snow --
a robin shell sky on a soft silver glow.

I think of the snowflakes with their different designs.
Now they cover the ground, the houses, and pines.

And I think to myself, though we’re different, I know,
if we all stayed together, we could shine just like snow.

Someday in the summer … maybe June or July,
I’ll make up a wish, and I’ll look at the sky.

And from robin shell blue with no cloud there in sight,
the snow will come down all silver and white.

It will kiss all our faces in the warmth of the sun.
And together and different, the world will be one.