Surreal

Snowflakes.
Falling, in March.
I suppose that after three
years I shouldn't be surprised.

The beauty, though,
is that of the sky when you look through
them all.

It's a phenomenon I've seen
several times now,
and always very striking.

The way the sun is at the top
of a bank
of clouds
but you can't quite make it out.

And the holes in the clouds
So small,
and surrounded,
You'd swear
that what you saw through
was grey,
But you know it must be blue.