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Snowflakes in July
by Austin Alexis
 
First one
then many
gliding down
with slow-motion ease
the ghosts of spirals
nuancing the sky
with nimble shapes
obedient to wind
like sound waves,
grace notes
free of weight,
angel-soft,
rare.
 
Later I learned
they were stray
bit of debris
from near-by construction.
Common.
The white pirouettes ceased.
No sun, suddenly.
No sparrows
dotted with specks.
The landscape's harp music
became stark wires
crosshatching sky,
scarring the air.

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