From a family of a trillion plus seven,
from zealous tears into the dews of heaven,
the nervous clouds about in the lower skies,
an assembly of the spirits as the waters rise,
fragments ascending from the eyes of the sea,
following paths never seen and never shall be,
an intelligence from the mind of Mother Nature,
a whispering of the winds aloft in winter’s ear,
a harbinger bearing news of the forthcoming cold,
a covenant with the motto of the seasons to uphold,
a clashing of the hot and cold and joyful and sad,
the sodden and the parched as so the winter clad,
a crying of the waters from the oceans down below,
for the mercy of the heavens to stay alive and glow,
a pulsating portrait of beauty and her offspring,
from the Gods as to their consentual gathering,
snowflakes from a family of countless children,
all attired in chiffon from heaven’s glen,
floating, dancing, drifting in a downward motion,
to a land, a roof top or a homecoming ocean.
“Go to sleep little snowflake as you settle in,
and may thou rise again to answer the call.”

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