Hearts have no template: they vary as much as snowflakes. Like snowflakes, some hearts are cold, but others are warm as babies’ hands. Some are gray with melancholy; some bright with good cheer. This collection contains poems that reflect moments of the heart’s delight and struggle. Some of the poems are indirect, merely suggesting the presence of the heart. Some are happily frivolous, as hearts can be; others are drawn from deep wells. Yet others squeeze into the group, altogether heartless, having slipped in between pulsations.