Snow

Could it be that snow is the sorrow of the sky?

Cold, stinging tears turned to ice in the fury of the winds. So plentiful are these tears that they drift down to meet the earth. The sky in its silent weeping hides its face from the ever joyous sun with its soft blankets of grey.  The mysterious wails heard in the wind are those of the sky, dismissed by listeners as their imagination in the winter cold. 

The sky's sorrow is misunderstood. As her tears continue to fall, laughter is heard from the people below. They see not misery, but fun and amusement. 
It is beauty to them. 

And when the tears stop from exhaustion, when the snow falls no more, there is a stillness. Time turns slowly although the clock moves the same. Some may feel this sensation while others treat it as a result from their duties.  It is the sky's way of thinking, the sky's reflection. 

Then there is either more sorrow or she moves on. The storm either continues or the sky becomes blue, clear, and bright. The people are oblivious when the sky returns to happiness. 

"The weather is beautiful today."