Processional for the Last Snow Snake

The powder ribbon crosses the cloth as a lateral instruction that fails mid-transit. Airflow arrows continue their route, but the missing register severs weather from its notation; beyond it, snow survives only as scattered cells. The violet rose remembers direction without restoring motion. Four gold stitches hold the tear open rather than close it, while a coral tick records the warmth that made this ground-level drift returnless. The procession asks us to read disappearance not as emptiness, but as a break in the conditions that once let matter move.