In the hush of winter's breath, where atoms dance unseen,A snowflake carves its throne from chaos—blind, pristine.No architect in the gale, yet symmetry unfolds,A river's patient blade through stone, to oceans it beholds.Predictable in fury, ordered in the storm's wild art,Nature whispers laws she did not write, etched on every heart.But halt, O seeker of …
Bob Graham's Blog 