Dancer

I rule the Earth for three months of the year
Tiny– I get stuck to the soles of shoes.
See me? Oh yes! But me– one cannot hear.
What am I? Good question. Here are two clues:

Lightly falling, I quietly cover
The earthy brown mud and sharp spikes of green
Silently deciding, as I hover
Before veiling the world in a white sheen

Winter’s own blanket, enfolding the trees
No life stirs beneath my covers of white
The small pink flowers (hidden) hold the keys
To unlock their cage, burst into the light

Now to the question, here is the answer:
I am naught but snow, winter’s own dancer!