Transformed, floating, falling;
buffeted by winter winds,
swirling in a swarm of others.
Distantly they look like me,
but as they pass I see that they
like me are not alike; their wings
describe an icy pattern that is
functional and beautiful,
yet not my own. We each excel
and glide within an unknown plan
that unifies us, yet transcends
the limits of what we might know.
Thursday, March 7, 2019
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