Snow

Falling slowly from the night sky,
a soft parachute of beauty
dances with the street light.

Swaying from right to left,
following the wind as it blows,
looking for a place to rest.

A soft brush silently covers the street.
The road sleeps under a white blanket tonight,
snowflakes greet every tree with a tickle.

The painting will never dry; ruined in the morning.
Mother Nature surrenders the street to mankind,
dismissing a masterpiece to the curb.

Staring out my window in the still of the night,
were my eyes the only two that saw?
A picture so perfect, so temporary.