Michael and Mark were playing with Erin and
Gretta in the snow. Lesa and Catherine were
talking, Lesa leaning against a car, Catherine
holding out her hands mixing words in the air.
It was cold. The snow was a powdery ash.
A five thirty sunset was coming in half an
hour. A Hooker’s Falcon swooped above evergreen
and maple trees to the east. Ravens cawed
to the west, flying in two and threes.
I stood cocooned in my coat, arms straight
down in the frost. I was a penguin observing
the pastel colors of the sky. Muted lavender
and yellow, grey blue napping clouds. I
was a penguin immersed in stillness, a part
of an arctic calm. I turned my head as if
to hear silence coming from all directions.
The ground felt soft and light under my
feet. The world welcomed me to its peace.
I was a penguin. I understood the reserve
and patience of those ladies and gentlemen.
Do they laugh? I was laughing inside me.
I belonged to serenity. To the frigid
atmosphere. Its clear ceiling. The crystals
of ice in the air. I watched the children
playing. Felt the wrapping of the breeze.
I shifted my feet, penguin style. I was
in the focus of natural sublimity. Every
wound was healed. Every scar a vanished
memory. I felt wonderful. The way penguins
feel, in tuxedo.