From the heavens they come and fall aground.
Some fall quickly, while others twirl around.
But the precise path that each of them take
Was lead nor followed for anothers sake,
As only the laws of nature dictate
The travelled path or the last resting state.
Yet in the end, they cover evenly
To render us a scene so heavenly.

Heavenly, for our eyes see cleanliness
That covers reality's ugliness.
And I say, like snow flakes we should be.
So when the snow's gone, still a sight we see.