Life in Winter

Gauzy white snow covers the ground
Goose nor duck's tracks to be found.
The sky is a piercing blue,
It seems so fresh, almost new.

The clouds are white cotton puffs,
The delicate edges, the pretty ruffs,
A blue jay swoops down low
And lands on its little toes.

It goes where ever it chooses
And no one tells it where to be;
so beautiful and so free.