A snowy egret flies
On paper thin wings
Like a paper airplane
Gliding through the air
Keeping airborne
For as long as it can
Until its fragile wings
Bow under the weight
Of heavy air
Into the ground
Where no paper airplanes soar
Here the snow
Belongs to the land
Not the bird in the sky
No longer fragile and beautiful
But the paper-thin feel
Of cold seeping
Into your hollow bones
The delicate dance
Of frostbite on the fingertips
Of ballerina dancers
The slow decay of the biting snow
And the old heaviness weighing down
The lightest breeze
The wings of an egret
Laden with the burden
Of the world without sky
Chained to the ground
Waist deep in snow
Where a creature with wings
Does not belong
Yet cannot escape from
The paper wings beat
To leave behind this place
Heavy
With the absence of all
Freedom lies in the air
Where the snow belongs
To a graceful bird
Not the world lying below
Where frostbite is left behind
In the warm sun’s glow
