The kind of flakes which catch your eyelashes and make you blink.
Obnoxious yet beautiful things.
The dragonflies of a December night on an April day.
Yet as close as we are now to May,
There's no delight in dragonflies of frosted ice.
You catch my eye,
And land upon my windshield just to be scraped away.
Goodbye spring day,
Let us welcome back the winters bite of a dragonfly,
Which flew away.

-SS