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The Imperfect Storm
Millions
 Tumbling down from the sky
 During every chilly storm.
 The once blue sky now overruling with white
 As they delicately drift to the ground
 Each as magnificent as the last.
 
 The tiny flakes scatter
 Instantly liquidizing on my warm cheeks,
 Clinging to my knitted mittens,
 Or gathering in heaps
 Concealing the frosted green tips of the grass
 That peek out from underneath the clutter.
 
 Their distinctive symmetry 
 Extending from tip to tip
 Makes no two alike.
 The six different dimensions
 Illuminate the intricate detail at every angle;
 The complexity of their designs.
 
 Looking up towards the descending crystals
 They fall together like pieces of a puzzle
 Leaving me in amazement
 How something so miniscule can be so unique;
 Proving to be one of the many beautiful things
 Mother Nature creates.
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