i am the hanging branches
on your willow tree,
you don't wait
for spring to come
to tell me
i am beautiful

i am the rake
pushing through
your sand garden,
smoothing out the edges,
easing through the pain

i am the fog
hanging over
your mountain range,
covering you with
droplets of water
so sweet you can taste them
long after i've gone

i am the v-shaped flock of birds
flying over your turning tides,
calming you with every brush
of my wings against the clouds

but what i really am
is a snowflake balanced
carefully on one blade of grass,
waiting for your careful steps
to pass by me, for you to lift me
off the surface on one fingertip,
for you to bring me to your lips
so i may melt in your warmth