The Thoughts of an Image Writer by Kimberly Johnson - HTML preview

The Snow Dusting

Rolling hills,

Rolling grass,

A lone ranch,

Sits ever so silent.

In the early-morning sun,

We see a glimpse of snow,

It covered the grass and trees,

The abode and barns.

As the sun rises further,

The snow melts away,

What’s left on grass and trees,

Looks like a good morning dew.

As the sun hits high noon,

The snow is gone from the ranch,

The trees still wear their snow cover,

And a dusting still shows on the grass.

With the rolling hills,

The grass follows suit,

How beautiful the sight,

Of our white trees and snow.

Kimberly Johnson

1-12-07