Thursday, December 12, 2013



I once thought that snowflakes were feathers
   And that they came falling down
When the Moon Lady feathered her chickens
   And shook out her silver gown.

And then I began to look closer,
   And now I know just what they are
I caught one today in my mitten,
   And there was a baby star.

~Marchette Chute

Larrick Crosby, Nancy. Piping Down the Valleys Wild. 
New York: Delacorte Press, 1968. Print.

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