Monday, February 4, 2019

Snowflake I

Here in the high thin air,
seeded by a mote of dust,
I begin to crystallize.
I have vague memories
of a windswept sea
and of cold stony mountains
that I soared far above,
too young to be born.

"Stay with me," said the wind.
"I have carried you so far,
and don't want to lose you."
"It's my time," I said,
as I began to slip out of her grasp,
my white lacy wings becoming
a burden to her
an escape for me.