Evelyn Greenlee

I can’t help but notice as I look out
my window, the grey of the sky peppered
with freckles of pale white snow coming down,
how each small snowflake, unrepeatable,
must form in the clouds, matchless and alone
in their cold bright world. But as they are freed,
falling, falling, falling, down to darkness,
the buried sun behind their hurried backs,
their little arms, frosted and glimmering,
reach outwards and grasp for hope, grasp for help,
grasp for each other. Instead of floating
delicately down from the high heavens
in solitude and seclusion, the snow
falls down in little clumps, each crystal wrapped
in the cold embrace of companionship.
Though the unknown patiently waits, they jump,
just hoping that as they fall, they will find
someone to plummet into the depths with.
And I can’t help but think, that don’t we all.

This poem was submitted alongside “I am but a seashell”. When asked about the inspiration for this piece, Evelyn said, “Both of these poems came from me recognizing aspects of myself, my feelings, and my experiences in small moments of nature. By using these sort of universal images, for example, a clump of snowflakes falling down outside my window or a seashell beneath the waves, I was able to express myself in a way that hopefully other people can relate to or understand.”