She hangs a veil of wispy clouds over her lunar lamp,
quietly on a silver blue morning; this universal scamp,
Mother Nature, sends her icy breath whispering
across barely naked and nearly frigid wood.
But known to be fickle, She changes her mood.
Sister Moon blinks white light in the dawn's breeze.
Mother's frosty veil sways with rhythm and ease,
like an open window's sheer dressing
dancing on an early crisp and stimulating Spring day.
Mister Sun then winks an offer to come out and play.
Solar wings pierce the cold morning thought.
Mother changes heart and soul of her own Winter plot.
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