Big snow flakes
Slowly falling to the ground
Though millions pass my window
They make not a sound
Across the road I see
300 round bales of hay
Neatly placed in columns and rows
They’ll get a little wet today
My Black Angus neighbors
Still forage through the snow
Looking for little grassy clumps
Somehow still managing to grow
The only sounds I hear
Are crows up in the trees
They are always squawking
And are impossible to please
And now the clouds are moving out
The skies begin to clear
Cars and trucks scurry down the road
A brand new day is here
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