No snow here in the far south of the UK but elsewhere it has brought problems so I have dug this out of my writing file.
We wake, part curtains and see
One softly falling flake,
Delicate, insubstantial, transient
Now before our eyes with childish glee
We watch the world transform again
To Innocence and purity.
No mark of man, nor even track of bird or beast
Later, as rush hour looms,
The snow shows its true force
That solitary flake has strength in numbers
More powerful than any train or car or aeroplane
And we benighted humans curse and fear
What once we loved a few short hours ago.
Paradise lost again?