One snowflake spins downward;
Gently lights on the ground,
So delicate, fragile,
Without making a sound.
A few more follow—
Fascinating, pretty,
Featherlike, they gather,
Lightly dusting the city.
Everything looks the same,
Even through their light haze,
What can a snowflake do
But perfectly amaze?
So frail, vulnerable,
Melting to the right touch;
A little warmth, it’s gone;
Not a one can stand much.
But in just two hours,
They’ve collectively hurled,
Enveloping whiteness
And transformed their near world.
Each delicate crystal,
By itself so hapless,
Yet together, so strong;
Not feeble and helpless.
Each snowflake, when solo,
Without threat or inference.
Who’d think a mere snowflake
Could make such a difference? |
