My wings, hand-crafted,
        perch stapled to my shoulders.
The sky gazes endless – and I gaze back;
        through the shredded curtain of snow,
        curling over me like a blanket.
In frozen uniqueness
        the snowflakes dance joyously,
        spiraling downward.
From tops of both trees and buildings,
        whose masters' hands grow on separate vines,
        I watch the snow melt;
        then, snatched back up into clouds.
My body and soul are airborne,
        yearning to rest in the comfort of ground,
        which lies shielded by snow
        like clustered masses of fear – frozen
        till it floats away in clouds forever.