it’s Tuesday, this is what I know…
morning walks in winter storms keep my mind from spinning the moment I wake up
winter weather, while others shiver and groan their disdain, brings me solace
I am a chunk of snowflakes making my way somewhere
despite the twists and turns that hold me aloft
I will get there
and when I do
it will be soft
quiet
calm
when I imagine my decaying body feeding all the critters and bacteria and fungus
it’s always soft
quiet
calm
as what was once me breaks down one final time
one purposeful time
I will become whatever is around to consume me
I will be the moss
I will be the bog
I will be the giant sequoia and the meadow
I will not vote
or pay taxes
or cry in anguish over the injustices around me
the noble creatures in the dirt and on the forest floor will be nourished by me
until I am a pile of bones
a memory
a good intention
a lifetime of personal growth echoing from tree to tree
and when the snow comes
I will relish the season’s change from the roots of an aspen grove
I am a snowflake
I will be a snowflake
on and on until the sun burns out
then back into the cosmos I’ll go
a trillion different iterations held in the palm of my hand