Formed

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The earth waits, watches, as the object glides down. The timing is unknown, yet anticipated. Grey skies, chilling wind, announce the snowflake. The symbol of uniqueness, of every snowflake being different, as unique as each individual. Or so it is said.
The breath prepares the sound, formed from feeling. I breathe, feel, and with an exhale, express my thoughts. The earth waits, listens as I exhale my unique choice of words. Each one amazingly different.
In a coffee shop, two strangers discuss the delicacies behind the glass case. The question arises, from the earth, and the breath.
“What is your favorite word?”
“That depends on the category”
The snowflake lands, melts, changing form and meaning.
“What is my favorite sounding word, my favorite feeling word, my favorite word to live by?”
The grey skies, chilling wind, create another snowflake, and the ground anticipates its arrival.

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