These humans rush around
me
Running, yelling, buying,
wrapping
What must all their
rushing be
Mailing, panic, shopping,
yapping
Yet I know where the
magic is
Sitting in my bed of
snowflakes
In skies so blue they’re
hard to miss,
In sparkling snow, in icy
bough breaks
Crackling up around my
head.
I listen with my frozen
ears
To softest music, kinds
words said
If one is silent, then
one hears.
I may be frozen, but I
feel
My woody arms touch
chilly sky
My senses know the world
that’s real
While most ignore it,
seeking lies.
The music of the universe
Of God and heaven, all
around
It finds me on its soft
disperse
And vibrates through my
snowy ground.
Who am I?
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