First Snow

The sky breathes white, a feathered hush descends,
As flakes like feathered angels gently bend.
They weave a veil on branches etched and bare,
Transforming starkness into beauty rare.

Once vibrant greens and golds now sleep below,
A frosty blanket muffling all, a silent show.
The wind whispers secrets through the crystal spun,
A world reborn, pristine, beneath the sun.

Footprints, whispers, etched in silent grace,
A tapestry of nature's gentle pace.
The frozen pond, a mirror to the sky,
Reflects the clouds that drift on by.

Though winter's grasp may linger, cold and keen,
A promise whispers in the evergreen.
For life still sleeps, protected, safe and warm,
To burst anew when spring unlocks the storm.

So let the snow fall, cleanse and purify,
A hush of white beneath a leaden sky.
For in this quietude, beneath the frozen bough,
Everything looks better after the first snow.


Line Count: 20
Written for: "The Writer's Cramp" 
Prompt:

1. Title of your static item: First Snow
2. LAST line of your story or poem - bolded: Everything looks better after the first snow.
3. Choose ENVIRONMENT as one of your genres.