The birds soar with the snow
Caught in the loop of the wind swirl
They relish betwixt snowflakes and feathered torsos
Snow falling appears to fly
I wonder how many times the flurries round before they relinquish frozen life
In the tempest, flurries reawaken once they’ve ended flight
Becoming snow
Becoming water
Becoming the dew on the flower
Then evaporated to the earth
Nature continues its cycle
The flurry will one day become the bird
And I will become the dirt
J.Mar
Author: J.Mar
I was born and raised in Kern County in an unincorporated area of Kern, CA. My parents moved there in the 90s to make a living as farm workers. Watching them barter their bodies, homelands, and family for a chance at the “American Dream” has caused me to reflect. My writing here is largely the unceremonious unpacking and repacking of what was won and lost in this exchange.
My version of the dream consists of completing a PhD in Public Policy. I currently study public finance, public participation, and remittances in Mexico. I am also generally interested in the Latinx public finance experience.
I’ve learned to be cautiously optimistic about the future.
Lastly, I love plants and cleaning is a freeing ritual to me.
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JMar 