Each snowflake has its own pattern,
Did you know? She asks.
Yes, I say. But I've never been able to see just one.
She stares around her as snow falls.
And there. On her eyelash.
A perfect star.
I don't say anything.
How could she see something so close to her eye?
Look! She cries. Captured on the pink fleece of her jacket
Delicate minuscule perfection.
She throws out her arms.
All of these! They're all this beautiful.
Can you imagine?
But I just watch the star by her eye.