An endless horizon of new possibility...

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Each one is different. That's what I'm told. How is it they know that? Is there an archive of the infinite number of snowflakes that have ever fallen? Can you Google it to match the one on the end of your tongue? How is it that we recognize each and every one as distinctly a snowflake if they are not the same?

And each of these snowflakes clearly only have a very short life indeed, as something we recognize as a snowflake. What are they while they are forming - small beads of ice; water; baby snowflakes? What are they becoming when they have reached their peak and begin to melt, or are smashed together to form a weapon or something to live in?

When each of these unique individuals hold hands to form a blanket of freshly fallen snow they make the world seem an endless horizon of new possibility.

They arrive as a gift from above, falling freely and free to delight our tongues, to age our eyelashes, to bury our wondrous dogs, to cover our footsteps...