Snow ...

... by Orhan Pamuk is about a poet ... his wandering in Kars, searching for his silent soul, being lost together with the senseless politicians who are leading the courageous humanity to yet-another pitfall, while along the way, he encounters love, its associated pain, and the ever omnipotent presence of God ...

"After leaving Kars, Ka apparently read a number of books about snow.  One of his discoveries was that once a six-pronged snowflake crystallises it takes between eight and ten minutes for it to fall through the sky, loses its original shape and vanish.  When, with further enquiry, he discovered that the form of each snowflake is determined also by the temperature, the direction and strength of the wind, the altitude of the cloud, and any number of other mysterious forces, Ka decided that snowflakes have much in common with people ... ....

And by the time he was recording these thoughts in the notebooks, Ka was convinced that every life is like a snowflake: individual existences might look identical from afar, but to understand one's own eternally mysterious uniqueness one had only to plot the mysteries of one's own snowflake".

Strawberries ...

.. by Edwin Morgan ... reminds me of summer lights, berries, daisies, blue sky ...  

There were never strawberries
like the ones we had
that sultry afternoon
sitting on the step
of the open french window
facing each other
your knees held in mine
the blue plates in our laps
the strawberries glistening
in the hot sunlight
we dipped them in sugar
looking at each other
not hurrying the feast
for one to come
the empty plates
laid on the stone together
with the two forks crossed
and I bent towards you
sweet in that air
in my arms
abandoned like a child
from your eager mouth
the taste of strawberries
in my memory
lean back again
let me love you
let the sun beat
on our forgetfulness
one hour of all
the heat intense
and summer lightning
on the Kilpatrick hills
let the storm wash the plates