Thursday, December 1, 2016

Six Ways of Looking at a Snowflake



Six Ways of Looking at a Snowflake
By: Tyler G.
I.
I can see a snowflake by a river
it looks like a cloud that’s making snowflakes.
II.
I can see a snowflake in my magnifying glass
and it looks like a silly giraffe hanging on his leg.
III.
I can see a snowflake by Ms. Jane’s glasses
and it looks like a funny astronaut
driving his rocket the wrong way.
IV.
I can see a snowflake by a mirror
and it looks like a block that is
flipping by itself.
V.
I can see a snowflake by a window
and it looks like rain
and it looks like a leaping frog.
VI.

I can see a snowflake by a light
and it looks like a shining star
and it looks like a funny cloud.





Six Ways of Looking at a Snowflake
I
Observe it as it falls from the sky
And then onto your tongue
II
Watch as it falls onto your fingers
And melt from the warmth
III
Study it as it falls onto your coat
And see the different shapes of each flake
IV
Gaze upon the pure white land of cold
And appreciate the beauty and sight of winter
V
Inspect each individual footprint on the snow
And imagine the different kinds of people who walked in this chilly weather
VI
Judge the size and height of the snow over the night

And wonder if school will be cancelled tomorrow



8 ways to look at a snowflake

I
Lick it
II
Eat it
III
Bake it
IV
Cook it
V
Boil it
VI
Fry it
VII
Deep fry it
VIII

Enjoy it!

Six Ways of Looking at a Paper Snowflake
By Ms. Jane

I.
Fold the square into a triangle
and the triangle into a small triangle.
Don’t forget the small triangle,
believe me.
Hold the foldy side in your hand and cut parallel
to the not-foldy side.
Make sure the strips are wide enough, and even.
Cut not quite to the middle, but almost.
When finished cutting, open.

Hold the two middle points in your hand
and loop them onto themselves.

Do this with the rest of the strips,
alternating sides.

Now do this five more times.
When you have your six sides,
staple them together one by one,
first in the middle, then on the side-strips.

Add a string to hang it up,
and a light in the middle if you want to.

II.
I got good at snowflakes as a solitary kid
working my way through a pastel memo cube
while I listened to The Doors
and it rained.
Both as sad
and not as sad as it seems.

III.

It was raining the day I delivered the neighbors’ snowflakes
so I wrapped them in Acme bags
inside their fancy bags
and closed them into screen door
as non-invasively as possible.
One neighbor,
I didn’t even know her name yet
only her generous window art—
last spring she named a kite after me
I was a kite for months.

IV.

Where you were, a paper snowflake.
Where you were, playlists I can no longer stand to hear.
Where you leaned against the wall,
Where you typed in your number,
Where I checked and rechecked and too-many-checked what you meant.
Where we were, paper snowflake,
one corner out of six, unfinished, finished.

V.

In February, they were North Stars,
all lit up and glowing in the window,
where you waved like a Muppet once
when you saw me walking down the street.
I loved you in that window, like the LED lights flashing
like the books lovingly selected
and sadheartedly returned.

VI.

How to get over it:
explain how to do it, step by step.

Cut, and fold, and cut.