Snowflakes are falling
each of unique design
some going straight down
but most floating sideways
on the gentle breeze
under cloudy-gray skies
hoping to defy gravity
for as long as possible
and enjoy the journey
back to the earth
from which new life
will eventually arise.
The rate of snowfall quickly increases
heavier, now, most fall straight down
‘til a breeze circles, again, from left to right
and nature transforms, momentarily.
Flakes change size and pattern of flight.
I sit, looking out the window; pen my
marvel at the accumulated whiteness.
As the speed of flakes’ descent accelerates,
my sun-yellow shovel waits, knowingly,
ready to dig out the day’s remainder.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2013
About this poem:"I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around
accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it's both."