Giant snowflakes drifting
Past my window,
Their positions ever shifting.
I’m reminded of a puppet show.

Jerking motions,
Up and down,
Humorous commotion,
Turning, twisting all around.

But there be no puppet master here.
On cold air they simply float,
Eddy currents they commandeer,
Each a tiny sailing boat.

Jibe and tack,
Run with the wind behind,
Not one motion do they lack.
To each a separate course assigned.

But by some magic they never do collide,
As though touching be not allowed.
Each riding on its separate tide,
To lonely lives avowed.

I’m reminded too of people in a crowd,
Each with their own direction,
Touching contact not allowed,
Ultimate lonely disconnection