A Conversation with Sn۞wflake

David Rhei

A snowflake sidled in my hand
at a bus stop one zero below morning.
As my ears brought it closer to examine,

I realized it sang of the h۞le
in its center. And I related
with the lamenting emptiness it hummed

to this bright chaos. I was surprised
that it maintained its open personality—
despite the displacing distance travelled

just to blend in the frigid light of this city.
In spite of its alienated ring,
my breath still plumed at its intricacies.

But for that fling of a moment,
while in the awe of my palm,
it melted away.


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