XXIV

301 14 2
                                    





at the tip of the branch
she was afraid to fall
her grip was firm
but the wind was stronger
she swirled in cold
as she was lifted high
to the deity of clouds
the wand turned clockwise
and she was falling
slowly but full of grace
as the first snowflake
to touch mother earth


  8  :  3  7

Glass HeartWhere stories live. Discover now