Flakes of Snow

by Ruth Estevez

A child on the brink, she paused in the snow.
Alone on the silent drive as flakes fell thick and trees hid
She turned to look as shapes shifted
In the encroaching dusk
And she felt a peace inside ignite.

The air heavy with silence,
She sensed her advancement would not continue alone.
As the moment stretched,
Not swirling with classmates, racing and dodging,
Not bombarded with questions
And the fear of not knowing,
She breathed in a hushed smatter of breaths.

The painless flakes dulled other sounds,
Falling, falling, silently camouflaging,
Wrapping her into a bunker of treasured time
That did not stroke with steely fingertips,
But which left behind imprints that slowly refilled,
Leaving a pure expanse of snow,
So that when others climbed over the rise,
Any presence would pass unknown.

(From the anthology, ‘A Captured Moment’ United Press.)