Uniqueness

Now that it’s almost Spring, I thought I’d honor my favorite part of Winter…
Snow Crystal 1

Snowflakes swirl down from a midnight sky,
whipped cream spirals in a bowl of indigo.
This glowing cornucopia unravels into silver needles
of splintered light, tiny crystalline doilies, saucered tales
from Pacific swells, Gulf Streams eons old,
phantom cauldrons rising up to bitter cold,
churned by Alberta Clippers, El Niños, Nor’ Easters,
mountains of air with volcanic force
as vicious and blue as hurled steel beams; yet
these latticed keys from distant rooms ride as
lightly as butterfly wings. Each hexagonal dream,
uniquely knitted by whispers of thought,
giggles down and adds its price to the muted ground,
to perhaps be wondered at briefly
before disappearing forever.

Snow Crystal 2

12 Responses to “Uniqueness”


  1. 1 Jenny

    Are those pictures are real snowflakes? They are absolutely beautiful!!

  2. 2 Garnet David

    Yes, they are, and they are beautiful, aren’t they?

  3. 3 Ron

    Snowflakes are absolutely wonderful, and as your last line suggests totally impermanent as are all things.
    Very nice, thank you.

  4. 4 Garnet David

    Hello Ron- …And hopefully we won’t have snowflake weather for awhile! Nice to see you.

    David

  5. 5 Tricia

    Beautiful! Can’t wait for next winter, kidding!

    Tricia

  6. 6 Desiree

    You truly captured their essence with your words! What a delightful read David! The pictures were awesome too! What a wonderful farewell post to winter!

  7. 7 Garnet David

    Thank you Desiree- You are very sweet. Happy Spring to you. D

  8. 8 Princess Haiku

    Hi,
    I was attracted to your blog by its beautiful name and enjoyed reading your recent entries. I found you via indeterminacy and glad that I did.

  9. 9 Garnet David

    Princess Haiku- Thank you for stopping by. I need to visit Indeterminacy. I’m glad to hear he is back again.

  10. 10 sharaf

    this article is really amazing

  11. 11 Garnet David

    Sharaf- What about it is amazing? And were you referring to the poem or the later article on flow?

  12. 12 Poetry

    The moon is gone.

    She fled as dawn approached.

    Dawn as a slowly opening eye.

    White sea birds skimming over the water,

    looking for an early morning snack.

    The mirror brightens.

    From a blood moon at dawn to a mirror

    reflecting waking life…

Leave a Reply