Sun sets early over melting snow, <br />a grey coldness descends <br />and ice forms where once soft powder white <br />glinted in the light of dawn <br />with an all embracing quietude of calm. <br /> <br />Coldness turns purest white delight <br />into treacherous sheets of ice <br />that crack under the careful placing of feet <br />and snowballs full of fun <br />have now become icy missiles <br />until they melt in gentle morning sun.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-same-substance/
