Is intricate and indecipherable.
It is mortal, and so its beauty must be quickly
understood and beheld,
Else it perishes or becomes one with the snow:
Forever blended into other ordinariness.
A snowflake is unique and even if
There were one other snowflake just like it,
It might never know, and so it knows to value
Loneliness and nurture solitude, quiet, peace.
But a snowflake melts in the warm hands of a child,
The windshield wipers of a car,
The tires that tread around and crush it.
A snowflake is thus all the more precious
And lovely
And blessed
And wanted
And it’s why we still stick out our tongues, eyes closed, hearts open to chance, to catch one on our tongues
Whether we’re four or forty.
Erika
