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Hilda Conkling

Snowflake Song

Snowflakes come in fleets

Like ships over the sea.

The moon shines down on the crusty snow:

The stars make the sky sparkle like gold-fish

In a glassy bowl.

Bluebirds are gone now,

But they left their song behind them.

The moon seems to say:

It is time for summer when the birds come back

To pick up their lonesome songs.