The snow comes across the sky
like feathers from a pillow-
one that perhaps you have smashed
with reckless joy
against your best friend's head.
The flakes, too, are reckless.
They see me through my window.
They flock against the glass
to get a better look at me.
They show me their six identical corners.
I show them my two unique eyes.
by nessa locke 2021