The snow fell silently.
It was no longer the season.
It was not the time for snow.
The countryside absorbed the flakes one by one.
The rain fell quietly.
The day was gloomy and the animals had fled.
A small puddle joined with a raindrop.
The larger puddle shimmered with ripples.
Each moment goes swiftly.
We wait for the future.
We wait for tomorrow.
Snow and rain come and go through the year.
We conceal their beauty with doors and windows.
Our roofs and walls hide their mysteries.
© 2012 W. Wayne B.
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