Early morning;
crisp virgin snow.
Tiny tracks
barely pressed
by early birds.
Moments pass;
silence broken
Weary souls
weave their path
past my window.
Little feet follow;
tiny tot boots
follow in steps
slowly melting
as sun rises.
Hurry, scurry;
footfall frenzy.
Morning wonder
torn asunder
by man-made soles.
Evening flurry;
snowflake sprites
paint pavements –
Wash of white
in the moonlight.
Night-time storm;
raindrops hail.
Rivulets form
as teary streams
down window panes.
Daylight’s call;
waters drum
as puddles form,
and early birds
catch their worms.
Jane Sandford 
Simply magical. G:)
Thank you, G. Possibly the wrong season for a snow poem though 🙂
Gorgeous imagery.. you’ve really got the power of description!
Thank you, 2PP – this is one that I ‘saw’ as I wrote, so I’m very happy that you see it, too 🙂
Enchanting ! The beautiful imagery changing with each passing hour of the day! Simply loved this!
Thank you. It was inspired by a morning walk to the bus stop. I have to cross a supermarket car park, and I was the first one to do so, apart from some tiny bird foot prints. When I crossed it again later in the day, it was full of cars and all the snow had gone.