Timing’s everything. The vapor rises high in the sky, tossing to and fro, then freezes, suddenly, and crystalizes into a perfect flake of miraculous snow. For countless miles, drifting east above the world, whirling about in a swirling free- for-all, appearing aimless, just like love, but sensing, seeking out, its destiny. Falling to where the two young skaters stand, hand in hand, then flips and dips and whips itself about to ever-so-gently land, a miracle, across her unkissed lips: as he blocks the wind raging from the south, leaning forward to kiss her lovely mouth.
From Borges and Other Sonnets. Copyright 2003 by William Baer. Reprinted by permission of Truman State University Press.
