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Crystals floating gently above

–gliding toward the sleeping earth

—-blown from side to side unaware

——of the wind and cold that gave them birth


Strong chilly gusts swirl and howl

–driving the flakes into frenzied pace

—-pushed and pulled in forces unseen

——until they rest exhausted from the race


Frozen and white a blanket thick

–grabs the fallen flakes and holds tight

—-forcing the individual to lose itself within

——as it blends in and gives up its downward flight


One perfect flake —original–different — lost in the din forever


Karen Quinn 2013


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