Counting Snowflakes.
By sunken
Published: January 21, 2009
Updated: January 21, 2009


She gets excited by a snowflake,
the first of winter to float by
the grimy surface of a window
from a contaminated sky.
She says it looks a lot like Xmas
and that I ought to come and see…
She gets excited over prospects
that do not mean a thing to me.
The sky grows darker by the minute
but she illuminates the room,
her zest for life exaggerating
my own inherent sense of gloom,
a sense of seasonal foreboding,
the kind that’s amplified by night…
….silent nights and carol singers,
peace on earth and snowball fights….
I scratch my head as she counts further,
her fingers balanced with due-care
as if conducting weather patterns
from nothing more than arctic air.
“We are a flurry from one hundred,
one hundred intricate snowflakes…”
She says it looks a lot like Xmas
but I am counting on mistakes.