Crashing

 

When the snow started

the flakes wandered aimlessly,

casually, slowly downward.

All drifting, passing each other;

no plans, no destination,

no rush.

And still, each carries

the unvarying symmetries of snow:

the hexagonal branching of arms:

60°, hexagonal symmetry;

mirror symmetries, radial symmetries;

crashing like rebellious rich kids.