The Seasonal State of Life

snow

her tentative hand gently peels off her warm, knitted glove,
revealing the soft pink flesh previously encapsulated.
her quivering fingers slowly reach out,
as if she's searching for more than the pillowy precipitation surrounding her,
almost entrancing her frozen soul.
flurries lick the soft skin exposed to the harsh winter gale,
marring her with an angry red.
the elements scream that she should huddle away.
she does not.
instead, she spreads her great, white wings,
and lets the snow soak her soul.