The snow,
weightless and featherlike,
falls to the ground.

The flakes glide slowly down,
getting carried in the wind
and gingerly landing
on my black, uncomfortable shoes
that Dad forced me to wear.

I gaze up at the sky.
The sun is luminous
but the snow falls steadily,
although I seem to be the only one
that notices.

It seems like the angels
are throwing each flake
with a gentle tenderness.

The flakes are
little messages sent from above,
trying to cheer me up
on this dark day.

I continue to watch
this out-of-place snow
falling delicately onto
my mother's casket
as it's lowered into the ground.