“The woman turns away; one wing blackens like an onyx gem while the other glows white like a bright spotlight. She flies into the sky, leaving the crowd staring in astonishment. Angels fly away in two directions. Half make a black storm of moving, twisting shapes. The other half forms a white-as-snow moving cloud. The ranks are divided.”

“The rains stopped and the clouds were cleaved into shifting forms, slowly disappearing, slowly fading to blue sky, bright blue sky, with the sun, and the boy stood staring until everything turned white, and the owl flew carrying the boy away to join with the moon”

“Twenty thousand birds moved away from me as one, like a ground-hugging white cloud, clucking softly.”

“Well…there’s only one glove. Right away, I wonder, where’s the other glove? How did it become separated from its mate? Does it feel lost and confused without its other half? It looks lonely. Cold. Like an outsider that has no one to turn to, nowhere to go. And the stark contrast of the white snow against the bright colors of the glove makes the lines crisp and clear. It makes that feeling of alienated loneliness crisp and clear. The purity of the snow gives the purity of the glove’s solitude a stronger effect.”

“Somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces. Each half was glowing, and beating under all that white.”

“Like a feather in a dust storm, with no direction The Raven flies through life, helpless and omitted Until night declares and the wind expires. Then it flies to the land of stones and etchings And becomes an Ember, breaking away”