My shovel plowed the thin crusty ice
topped with sleeping snow, snickering.
The northeast sun commanding both
to acquiesce, transform to liquid.
I wondered, could this stuff have
travelled from the skies over Fiji, waiting?
Sweating. Okay, that's it. Giving it my last plow.
A beam of ice light brings my attention to my feet.
Melting before me is a snowflake
like I've never seen before.
It had a barcode. I had a barcode reader app.
Leaning over, I aimed. "Low Battery"…"Dismiss"
YES, YES, Dismiss.
But now, the flake from somewhere
keeps its origins unknown in
a sky blue puddle. Snickering.
And now I wish someone made snowflakes with bar codes. Or QR codes. Something. W.R. Smith's cat would be pleased.
Charming little piece.*
I like.