Snowflakes by Erica Strange
I am crouched on the axis of the sun
Seated on the edge of my cloud
Womb pregnant with thought.
Have I been made into this snowflake?
Or has it been made into me?
I hate these generous handfuls of snowflakes
Like pennies, they slip through my clenched hands
And are never enough.
1x04 ~ The Secret of Now

