Manna

A snowflake that the wind blew in my mouth
looked like a holy wafer – heaven bread–
that I could not have tasted further south
where warm and liquid droplets fall instead.
The snowflake bread that fell as if from heaven
took in the atmosphere some time to bake
before it turned to bread a breeze had given,
the winter manna of a small snowflake.
The snowflake didn’t choose this day to fall
nor did I choose to accidentally eat,
but I am thankful to the Lord of all
for this reminder in a wind blown treat:
although not falling looks to us as safer,
Love chose to fall and give Himself as wafer.

Untitled

Mario A. Pita

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