The fury of a snow storm--
not a gentle, falling snow,
but a wind-driven, unrelenting
deposit of crystal.
Not the kind of snow where
you can catch gently falling flakes on your tongue,
but the kind you would never put your face towards.
How can such a delicate thing as a snowflake,
which can melt with my own breath,
Sting like pointy darts
when powered by the wind?
Such are the gifts God gives.
Any one of them can come in several forms,
which delight or devastate
depending on the power by which He delivers them.