Snowflakes and Time


“Every snowflake has an infinite beauty which is enhanced by knowledge that the investigator will, in all probability, never find another exactly like it.”

Wilson Bentley


Beneath a frantic cry

a need for love

is carried on the wind

over a thousand summers

through winter storms of snow and ice,

the moon hums


There is no present the man says,

only past and future,

no division between beach and sea,

only water and sand

both existing together.


“In physics there’s no arrow of time.”

In a place beyond our beyond

the past might be the future,

perhaps time existed

before our universe.


My toddler daughter once asked

“Do you remember when I was in your belly

and I hiccupped and that made you laugh?”

A conversation that she no longer remembers,

but that I still do—


that moment in time


like a movie in my mind—

the improbable (could she have remembered?),

the reality


of mothers and daughters

over and over through time

we’ve moved my mother to a new facility–

she is exhausted,

she is exhausting.

It is an exhausting week.

Time seems to work differently,

dragging, then suddenly gone.

The world is wind and clouds

I am housebound–

by work

not trapped–

but constrained by deadlines

and circumstances

and January grey.



The snowstorm-that-isn’t comes

and goes–

nevertheless, I cook and bake–

comfort food, candles, and wine

while we watch the trapped Icelandic town

caught by weather and geography,

old grievances and new politics.

The world is weary everywhere

trapped by hate,

mired in ignorance.


My daughter says there’s a good musician here,

if you’re not doing anything today?

We’re not

and we go

listen to music, drink some wine–


It’s an afternoon out

but inside—away from the wind—

a moment in time, different,

as each snowflake, and ephemeral

but carrying its unique beauty in our memories


through time

(whatever that may be).




It’s been a strange week with moving mom and cleaning out her old apartment. While driving, we listened to an episode of the Ted Radio Hour, Episode “Shifting Time,” first broadcast in 2015.

We’re watching an Icelandic mystery series called Trapped. We’re almost finished with the first season, and we’re enjoying it.

42 thoughts on “Snowflakes and Time

    • Thank you so much, Charlotte! I appreciate your kind words.
      I kept meaning to ask if you had watched “Trapped” because I know you like shows like that. I’ll tell my husband you said it only gets better. We’ll be starting Season 2 soon. 🙂

  1. I so love Mondays…
    I didn’t check our weather forecast. On Saturday, I went to Costco at 5:45 (it closes at 6 and the only time I would consider going on a Saturday!). Skies were clear. I existed at 6:15 – snowstorm! I think we got something like 6-8 inches in total… I should have made comfort food 😉

  2. I sense a very slight anxious feeling in going out, that you felt ‘safer’ at home in the warm, with the snow and the cold and everything else outside. Winter weather has that effect. We feel insignificant and powerless. I hope your mother’s window has a peaceful view.

  3. Your poems are like snowflakes, each with their unique beauty. I hope you can rest now, have Time maybe slow down a bit but not drag. Your mom’s new place looks nice. With all your cooking and baking, I bet your house smells wonderful 🙂

    • Thank you so much, Marie!
      Well, I was almost ready to rest–but then today, my Acrobat Adobe ate my all-finished page proofs, so I have to re-do them, finish a test assignment that’s due tomorrow, and I’m hosting dVerse now. . .

  4. You have presented an exhausting week with such energy (and making me appreciate so much your comments on my posts). Good to see you smiling, and that header picture is such a good composition.

  5. I think it’s an anxious time in general.
    Moving gets harder as you get older for all concerned. It’s a diminishment as well as change. I hope your mother finds her way to some peacefulness.
    Your cats always make me smile. (K)

  6. Thanks Merril this is lovely capturing the inhalations and exhalations of it all, each different to the other. Does one depend on the other I wonder? …
    Thanks for mentioning ‘Trapped’ – sounds like my kind of series, have made a note.

  7. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at the moon again without listening for its song/hum. Thank you for that. Beautiful, winter-themed musings. Time can be strange, taking forever while speeding along. Hope this is an easier week for you, Merril, and that your mother is happy in her new place.

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