We stood on the wood bridge over old Shoal Creek when you reached up and shook a handful of snowflakes out of the white winter stars.
Just a handful, just a few cold crystals that tumbled down into the lazy loping water of old Shoal Creek.
As we watched them come down, I grabbed your magic hand and held it until those falling flakes were swallowed up and swept downstream, thinking you were as rare as an Alabama snowfall and I needed to hold your hand to keep you from disappearing just as quick.
This poem and others can be read on the author's website, http://gabrielgadfly.com.