Frolic Architecture

A tiny snow village had appeared in the front rock garden overnight.

Arrives the snow...
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.

- The Snowstorm, Ralph Waldo Emerson