I sat at my window and gazed outside
At the snow as it fell
From the heavens.
To the glass stuck a flake
That was not perfect in shape
With a little taken off the top.
I grabbed my camera
Because this was the perfect example of
Winds howling uncontrollably
And this little flake holds on.
I took the picture.
Just then the poor little flake
As if to say,
“My work here is done.”
Thought I’d throw another poem on here. Why not?
The picture is mine, too… came off my Flickr account. Check it out if you have the chance.