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?