One of my favourite lines from this poem, it immediately ignites the image of the very first time I saw this happen.
As though frozen in time, stuck in a solid corner of my mind, the memory of my very young daughter looking up to see snowflakes fall for the very first time. Even though her soft brown lashes blinked rapidly as one landed softly, it did not budge until she gently touched it with her fingertip.
There it rested momentarily while her big brown eyes observed it intensely, and as her jaw dropped in awe, she turned to look at me and whispered, “Mom, issa snowflake.”
Still too young to pronounce her t’s she somehow managed to pronounce every letter of the word I chose to focus on today:
For more on today’s snowflake, open the 3rd window from the Christmas Countdown calendar for a Snowflake Kiss:
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