Monday, January 10, 2011

Snow angel

A small boy stops by the street corner. He drops his bag and makes a snow angel as cars and people pass by.  He makes it meticulously. There is a contrast of car exhaust steam and the steam from his breathing as he moves and flutters his arms and legs. He sits up next to his finished artwork and enjoys a snack, like he's taking in the moment. Four people pass him by. None look at the snow angel he's made. Though he does get a passing sniff from a jogger's dog before it's pulled away.
There's a film of cloud over the sky, with bold streaks close to the horizon where the sun shines through.
A school bus approaches the street corner and stops for a moment. When it pulls away, the boy is no longer there. All that remains is the snow angel he's left behind.

On a bright December morning
a boy hidden in a snowsuit
stops by a street corner.
As cars and people pass by
he sinks into the mattress of snow
and flutters his arms and legs.
A few cars later, he sits up
from the white bed spread
and examines his brushstrokes.
A yellow bus approaches
and vents plumes of gray exhaust.
When it clears
the boy is no longer there
only his picture in the snow.

No comments:

Post a Comment