Good God — that snowflake!
There upon her eyelashes
I must kiss it off….
I should’ve spoken to the sower
Not the flower, not the fruit
It was the Earth upon its axis
Not fault of the sunrise
Aiming accolades at More!
I’m complicit cursing less
why this day remember back
why see it sealed in history’s white book
when fire and oil must’ve met?
the first time the light streak heard its thunderous voice
no -the unexpected, accidental, fated brush which brought blush
then quiet laughter and hard tears at the relief of it all