Do you see? The frail bones of dill are just the beginnings of proper baskets. The warp is there, but there is no weft. Yet, impossibly, snow accumulates in these baskets that are incomplete as perfectly as if they had weft and woven sides. I can't see the arms of snowflakes locking together, but I know they are doing it. I want us just like this, filling in and up even if all we have is just the skeleton of wholeness. We do not need everything to be in place in order to live fully.
