The Gentle Snowflake Band
Wednesday, November 22nd, 2006‘Are not the dead leaves clinging fast
To oak or beech, or from the blast
All deeply hidden? Can it be
That they are whirling rapidly?
Ah! Now we hear a sharp, clear “Churâ€
As they speed onward with a whir;
Upon the snow they settle down,
All white and black and leafy brown.
They’re but a gentle Snowflake band;
Their Mother […]