Miss Nature’s making clothes, again. You’ll see it, soon enough.
Her uniform she’s changing into mighty fancy stuff!
The velvet reds and satin golds would surely suit a queen.
Oh, how she drapes herself around, just waiting to be seen!
She’s ready, now, and how she moves, all glory in a glance!
The Wind picks up her skirts for her, and they begin to dance.
The party lasts for several days, she’s having such a time.
In spots she’s getting threadbare, but, she doesn’t give a dime!
Her ragged dress in tattered shreds soon lies there at her feet.
The lady’s nearly naked! My, has she been indiscreet!
The damage done, the Wind moves on and leaves her to the cold.
With long, bare arms, stretched to the sky, she shivers, sick and old.
The Clouds look down and shed some tears and whisper what to do.
Their hearts of pity overflow: “Let’s give her something new!”
In blankets thick and snowy white, they wrap her fragile frame,
To cover her disgrace, and more: to help her live again.
The moral of this story, as you must surely know:
Though our sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.
Copyright 2000 by Edy T. Johnson
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