Each little cherry tree Makes its own snow. It holds the white snowflakes, And then lets them go.
Out in the meadow Where wild cherries grow, In the tree's shadow Let's lie in the snow.
Lie still and close Against the ground Covered with snow, We'll never be found.
Anyone who has seen a cherry tree in full bloom knows what Davies is describing: the white petals look like snow, and when the wind comes they drift down in drifts. The speaker plays with that resemblance. A cherry tree, she says, "makes its own snow," holding it for a while and then letting it fall.
In the second and third stanzas, the poem turns from watching to joining in. The speaker invites a companion into the meadow to lie beneath the tree and let the petals pile up until the two of them are covered. The last lines, "We'll never be found," have the thrill of a child's hiding game, though the poem never says who is speaking or who is being invited.
The mood is gentle, secret, and a little dreamlike. Nothing here is cold or sad. The snow is soft and warm in spirit, and the closing image of lying still and unseen suggests quiet contentment, a small private world made by a tree in spring.