Magic wand in maestro’s hand
directs the powder where to land,
adorns the firs in lace-edged dress
where fact and fiction coalesce.
Soft on barren twigs alight
painting all in winter white;
and landing on the leafless tree,
to capture in pure reverie.
Smitten by such view, pristine
subscribe to all that lies unseen…
enthralled within this wonderland
concur that sprites have had a hand—
so call it 'snowfall' if you must
but I'm inclined to‘fairy dust!’
© Ginny Brannan 2019
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.