This is a poem.... Kind of.

Hello snowflakes, all of you beautiful unique little miracles, how are you?
Have you lived today?
Have you loved today?
Are making the most of your fleeting existence as you drift oh so gently toward the earth, destined for re-absorbtion?
Can you answer me, little snowflakes?
Of course you can't. That would be silly.
Everyone knows that snowflakes can't talk.
no, snowflakes are unaware of the chaotic forces that birthed them, the majesty of their existence, the beauty in their structure, so delicate so frail.
Snowflakes are content to drift effortlessly in the wind, in an aimless dance as they intermingle at the whim of the breeze.
Enough friendly banter little snowflakes,
wake the fuck up.

it's June and you're boring-ass rain.