The Snowflake

Just one — take your pick.
No two alike, they say.
Crystallized thousands of
Feet up in numbers
Defying any calculation,
Each a solitary star
Etched in ice —
A glittering, symmetrical,
Fragile masterpiece
Of precision and elegance.
Just one — conceived
In cloud, blown sideways,
Buffetted, battered, twirling,
Dropping in the dark
Over ocean, field, and forest.
Just one — turn skyward,
Open wide, and let it
Hit your tongue
With a crisp hiss.

It's Not My World

"All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death?"
—T.S. Eliot, "Journey of the Magi"

Never was,
Though I act as if.
I don't matter fully
In the great scheme.
One soul.
One heartbeat.
One life.
You love as best you can.
You attempt to offer a salve,
Some goodness, in the paucity
Of your humanness.
But you are not the world,
Though many days it
Feels that way.
Never was.
Get it line, I say,
With the march of Time.
Ten-feet tall and bullet-proof:
As if!
What I do have:
Memories varied and deep —
And life and life and life ...