James Taylor, ‘Snowflake Slaughter’
A multitude of snowflakes slowly and silently slaying the whistling wind
like a pestilence, but withering their afternoon age in the wind.
Martin Streeter, ‘Snowflakes’
A beauty, but still,
Falling like Leaves.
The wind silently whispering,
They wandered all afternoon.
Slowly dropping, silently slain,
Thickly the Snowflakes lay.
All on the Flemish Clay.