Wednesday, February 22, 2012


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

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