Feathers on my window pane,
Tell me winter’s here again.
Elfin hands paint lines at night,
That morning’s sun, shows so bright.
Though the feathers look like glass,
With winter’s sun they cannot last.
Like a dream they fade away,
‘Til nothing’s left in the day.
Come the night they reappear,
As the sun does disappear.
Each cycle brings to my view,
Winter feathers always new.
Copyright 2013, John Paul Mueller