Woodland Riddles

Rolling down the mountainsides,
Rising from the creeks.
A blanket of white to hide everything,
Except the topmost peaks.

From low-hanging clouds it flows,
Drip, drip, dripping off the trees.
It can pelt the ground all day,
Then be gone as quick as you please.

Blue overhead, now grey, now white!
Colors changing, never staying.
With the wind, look up and see a kite,
Or the moonlight waning.

Warble happily kingfishers here,
this their favorite prey's home.
Water flowing past banks near,
Cutting quickly through the loam.