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falling into place

 
the following is a poem i wrote about winter and death and spring and life.  the photos above are from our dining room window, where we taped some paper snowflakes we made as a family. 
 
i am a snowflake
a temporary crystalline arrangement
a single patterned thing
falling into place
like a piece of some impossibly hard jigsaw puzzle.
 
i am a cold stone
covered in a blanket of cold white
an icy unmoved object
not untouched but unseen, for now
buried in winters numb blank grave
 
i am a shaft of sunlight
a momentary aiming arrow
warming one spot,
dancing in anticipation
daring to point in bright hope
 
i am not my own
carved by many winters
and stamped with divinity,
a little lower than the snowflakes, perhaps,
but just as hopeful as the sun
i am made for being born again,
falling into place
like some impossibly hopeful seed.
 

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