snowflake.

i came through, slowly, armed
with but a rush of blood and an open mind.
it was a beginning of sidewalks and pavements,
keeping to the safest side.
i memorized the ground i walked on,
i searched for cracks, and tripped on them all.
the four winds blew all at the same time.
nothing but thorns to hold --- it's them or a pall.

i found comfort in a fleece i found
though not of gold, but of winter's warmth.
i felt and admired every thread
and was struck with beauty so profound.
i held on through spring, summer and autumn,
and it burned through the bite of snow.
the seasons turned, twice over and more
yet some weaves went unnoticed in the cold.