Narrative: First Snow

Goose! Goose!

 

Perturbation of the air.
I pull my cold limbs
in
tighter to my body
nestle my nose into the
thick grey fur of my coat.
Something stronger than the
icy cold pulls me out of
slumber and I
sit alert, hot air blowing out
white marks on the crystal wind.

The cacophony
draws me to the
waddling birds.
I see only warm bodies
satisfying quiver
of life, my life
in the first snow.

Quiet.
Barely a whisper
walking closer
slightly below the bank.
They are unaware,
pecking at the cold ground.

It seems interminable.
The journey.
The walk; the stalking.
Feet sink in white snow.
Louder honking, honking, HONK
I pick up speed, stay low…
the cold air on my eyes.
I leap into the circle of voices
and all is a rush, a flurry
as the birds, as one,
reach into the white sky.

I turn into the
dark umber growth
on the ridge.
Hungry.

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