It isn’t only the flakes that fall,
On the street and roof and all,
All the day and evening hours,
But white and shining stars and flowers.
A million, million tiny stars,
Dropping from the cloudy bars,
Falling softly all around,
On my sleeve and on the ground.
A million, million flowers white,
Falling softly day and night,
But not a leaf or stem at all,
It isn’t only the flakes that fall.
—Annette Wynne’s appreciation of the beauty of nature.