Snowflakes in the street lights look like
Depicted on warm socks
Before bed, and after
A flurry of ideas—often doomed—
Hope to become part of something bigger,
After all man was made from the earth.
The ball of dirt we walk on is
Nothing but a piece of celestial confetti
In a party God threw for himself.
We are snowflakes,
The sun is a streetlight,
And we are drifting in the wilderness
Towards an undetermined.
Anna Clark is an English major at Mississippi University for Women where she was first inspired to pursue writing. Keep up with Anna and her cat, August, under her social media tag, “Persephonetically” where the king writer exhibits her adventures as a student and a craft beer connoisseur.