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Outside the snow gently falls and glistens,

A small breeze will lead the snow in a dance,

Performing their art with a simple joy,

Music can be heard if one truly listens.

 

Lighted trees give off new colors for this dance,

Bright hues give their stage a magical glimmer,

Swirling and twirling the dancers move quickly,

A chaotic symphony never performed by chance.

 

An unseen conductor picks up the tempo,

Up into the air the dancers are thrown,

Coming down gracefully from their flight,

All land gracefully spinning to and fro.

 

As if by the conductor’s unseen hand,

The graceful show seems to end,

Although it is over for the moment,

The next dance will be just as grand.

 

Staying in place and not to be missed,

Waiting for their conductor to begin,

The dancers know of only one thing,

Tis for the next Evening Dance they exist.

 

 

D.E. Jones