Kismet

He walked through the snow, mouth wide open and eyes focused and half closed, trying to land a snowflake on his tongue. All kinds of flakes made their way down from the heavens, fat ones and tiny ones, all moving too fast for his mortal eyes to make out, much less appreciate, the intricacies of their design. A particularly plump one caught his eye, and he cocked his head just so as to intercept it at mouth level a few steps ahead of where he was now. Tongue out, lips parted into a childish smile full of naive anticipation, and whoosh! It flew him by inches above his surprised and lustful eyes.

He tried again, this time centered on a round one just a tad bit smaller than the last, and this one landed on his nose, making him for a second look like a cross-eyed, bewildered puppy.  

He kept his mouth open, this time walking the three steps purposefully towards his prey, but at just the last moment a southward wind came in and swooped the snowflake up with it, hiding it from his plain sight amid the busied flurry all around him.

And without him even trying, and often without even noticing, snowflakes would land in his mouth and mix with his saliva, entering his body’s systems for use and reuse.