At what point will the nation be burried?
Ice and snow pushing south
Broken lines, burried houses
Snow flies in the face of civilization
Will next week be a special Saboth?
Will the whole world come to a stop?
There is beauty when the world is burried
The ground hidden under hills of white
The sunshine reflects like diamonds
The whole world looks rare and alien
Though, it begins to look familiar
Even Children pine for springtime
The days do get longer
Soon we will be bathed in warmth and light