Transfigured

The landscape is transfigured to a dazzling white
Burying all the dry dull browns beneath it's mantle
Making everything look the same, there is no distinction
Save for the small lumps and humps of where things were
We don't like change and yet the whether changes
A whole place with snow, water, wind the common elements
Work and mold making something unrecognizable 
Changed in some cases forever and we deal with it
Adapting to the new, yet if it comes proposed
We shy away, refusing even to death to accept something new
Yet we cannot freeze it into being what we want
Because even the snow melts to reveal the green
New shoots of growth becoming springs of water
Which feed the ground we need only have faith