On a winter morn

tossing and turning
swirling and whirling
dancing and prancing
the snowflakes go
swiftly around the tree trunks
then flying above the lake,
the wind gives them a shake,
until they rest,
upon the grass,
not far away
from where the robin pecks
looking for the prey
that is just enough for the day.

On the other side of the window,
life goes on
running errands, doing chaos,
start of a busy day.

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world

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