Early morning you were a mist,
Dampening the world.
Soon your voice could not
Tick, tick, tick,
Pellets crashed against the panes,
Reminding everyone of your power.
Wet flakes fling down from above,
Filling in the gaps between grass blades,
Glazing sidewalks and streets.
Wind sends you careening sideways
Swirling out of control.
At the end of the day
You have created another polar landscape.
Could this be your last?