Snowflake
The streetlights cast a yellow glow against the darkening evening. I pull my collar higher against the bite of the wind, the kind of cold that promises change. Overhead, the sky is a heavy, bruised violet, ready to burst. And then, it begins—not a downpour, but a tentative, silent drift. Individual crystals, each a fleeting architectural miracle, unique from one another, begin their slow descent from the sky to the frozen ground. The world around me starts to soften, hard edges blurring under a gentle, accumulating lace. My breath forms tiny clouds in the crisp air as I catch a single, perfect star on the tip of my glove, a transient visitor from the heavens, a small piece of silent magic.
sky slips first snowflake
like frosting on a cupcake
liquid world keepsake
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