Silver Throne

A frosty breath blew through last night,
And so, came the wind and the sleet.
To decorate each bow and tree,
While we were all asleep.

Now each tree is decked,
With drops of silver light,
To take our breaths away,
At the magical sight.

Should it be true that silver fell,
To line the nature around?
To laden the grass,  
And touch up the pine,
And make each limb lean and bow?

And at the top of the great oak tree,
Rapped in his royal red robe,
Sits the cardinal red as can be,
Perched on his silver throne.