Snow Flies (Karen Saboe)
Early snows have the biggest flakes. The wind whips them high and low, creating a scene that is full of motion against the backdrop sky of gray.
Fluffy flakes of snow swirling all around, the kind that tempt you to stick out your tongue and catch one, and then instantly, that cold fluff melts.
Now the flakes fall on my eyelashes, with a weight, a snow-heaviness that makes me blink twice and wonder if others see any snowy glitter from my eyelashes.
One snowflake now falls on my red knit mittened hand. I peer to see what patterns I might find. Such snowflake beauty. Then, the wind whips, the flake swirls, the snow flies, all against the backdrop of the gray sky.
Fluffy flakes of snow swirling all around, the kind that tempt you to stick out your tongue and catch one, and then instantly, that cold fluff melts.
Now the flakes fall on my eyelashes, with a weight, a snow-heaviness that makes me blink twice and wonder if others see any snowy glitter from my eyelashes.
One snowflake now falls on my red knit mittened hand. I peer to see what patterns I might find. Such snowflake beauty. Then, the wind whips, the flake swirls, the snow flies, all against the backdrop of the gray sky.
Posted in Meditation
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