The Lord of Christmas Himself guided her scissors.
Elaine skillfully snipping away at snowy white tissue,
carefully unfolding the surprise:
A delicate white snowflake makes its entrance
quietly to whisper: “Merry Christmas!”
Like winter’s floating flakes, a fresh creation
-- unique, not mimicking any fellow flakes --
then, after ironing out the folds,
she laid it gently on the aromatic arms
to melt in among the other paper-frozen dozens.
Gazing over at the magnified wall-photo
-- Elaine adorning our tree with yet another flake --
I hear family song and sound,
I see the very same fingers
carefully plotting some random arrangement.
I will always see the wonder in her eyes
discovering sheer loveliness in each six-point portrait.
Asians of old found folk-art rich in symbols
-- hidden meanings within Origami-like folds.
So, we too, find memory-laden messages
in Elaine’s Christmas legacy.
Now, as we stand here in her stead
placing these same saved gifts on our tree,
we sense the reflections of her soul
that she imbued into each fragile flake.
