Each snowflake comes,

a gift from above.

Droplets of water,

diamonds in winter.

Mounds of drifts,

I forget 

they are made 

of unique crystals.

Until

a wind blows,

the drifts become a cloud

of individual flakes

that dance in the sky.

Lives all around us,

gifts from above.

Hearts beating,

souls seeking.

Bunched into crowds,

I forget

they are individuals 

known and loved.

Until

a life ends,

and the crowds become people,

while a soul leaves

to dance in the sky.

Dedicated to the avalanche victim