Snow flakes. — Summary

The speaker starts off trying to be sensible, counting snowflakes as they fall. But the flakes don’t cooperate—they whirl and leap like dancers, their “slippers” barely touching the rooftops. Playful rebellion creeps in: she calls them “rebels” and tries to jot them down with a pencil, as if she could pin down something so wild and fleeting. Very quickly, the sheer joy of the scene gets the better of her. She gives up the role of prim observer (the “prig”) and lets herself be swept into the flurrying, frisky mood. That last image—her ten formerly dignified toes lined up and ready for a jig—says it all. This is a small, quick celebration of letting go, of choosing motion and delight over rigid adult composure.