In Arizona, where I’m spending the winter
I don’t think about snow much and metaphors
often escape me, but after reading a 
poem by a mega-metaphor poet, I thought 
about 
	one, single, solitary snowflake, 
much like I would see back in Michigan 
on a low humidity, sunny day 
		floating/dancing gracefully, slowly, rhythmically 
from the blue 
-- a clear glass, leaded window of perfect 
geometrical design 
	transformed into a Chagall
	as the rays reflect and prism through. 
As I watch,
	the flake lands 
on a single, hot grain 
		of dune sand 
and melts as my heart melts in you.