Nothing Is Happening

Frosted Flakes (A Snow Poem)

Snowflakes fall in silent grace,
A hush upon the world they trace.
Each one shaped with icy art,
They melt like dreams upon my heart.
You taste one — cold and crisp, it gleams,
A fleeting sip of winter’s streams.
Too icy now to blend a treat,
But oh, that crunch beneath my feet!