She presses down the path, hoping the snow will silence the bees in her head.
The dog pulls, her arm trails, and she thinks that all her life she has been in want of a leash. To be led.
She closes her eyes, and wonders why this should be.
The dog lunges for a rabbit, and she tumbles, planting her face in the snow. She starts to rise, but tucks back down, folding herself over the leash to catch its momentum. The icy needles are emboldening, and she lies there, waiting for the hive in her cheek to grow sluggish, and numb. She waits a long time. The dog is anxious, his paws swarming with bees.
Flipping onto her back, she notes some simple things:
The light looks pulled, like tungsten.
Snowflakes have dusted her lashes.
Snow has a sound.
So do her lashes.
That tree is a pulpy nerve.
Her body is a pulsing nerve.
And the dog has ears like pup tents.
The woman's heart pools warm honey.
She picks up the leash, the dog dances, and a line interprets their joy.
Together, the woman and dog push deeper into the snowy, snowy woods.
Into the white noise.
While somewhere,
sweetening the tonic chord,
a flurry
of birdsong.
13 comments:
It seems you started out to write prose and wrote poetry instead.
Besides I like it for my own personal reasons as well. :-)
P.S. I've always wanted to write a birdsong. Maybe someday...
Writing a birdsong...what a remarkable idea, Abhinav! You've just given me an idea...
I'm glad you liked this. Lately, I feel like that half hour walk with my dog is sacred time. Most of my ideas come away from the computer now. As they should, I think. There is nothing more chilling to inspiration than staring at a blank screen.
I really like this ... like a short story and a poem merged ... I was right there, feeling the pull of the dog, the plunge into the snow, the meditation. Nice. :-)
Oh how beautiful, Sarah! You are a weaver of beautiful words and you find me blessed today because of my brief interlude with a writer's mind.
Cheers!
- Jo
Shameless, I did want to make it more about poetry towards the end, since nature has a way of transitioning our thoughts from prose to something approaching impressionism.
Thank you for making me feel like the story succeeded! :)
Jo, you are a very gracious reader. Thank you so much for your lovely compliment!
oh, sarah, this is wonderful! when reading i always look for a line or two that really hit me and you have done it with 'all her life she has been in want of a leash' and 'snow has a sound' - beautiful!!!
Prose-etry. Lovely.
Thank you, Hotwire. I liked those lines, too. ;)
"Prose-etry." Let's trademark that, Wayne! I love it.
:)
Really nice. I've read this several times.
This isn't the most romantic line in your prosetry, but it's still my favorite: the dog has ears like pup tents.
:-)
I promise I wasn't trying to make a pun with the "pup" part! It didn't occur to me until after.
Yes, I'm dense that way.
Thank you, CL!
:)
A rediscovery. Of everything.
There's warm surprise in this one, sparked by icy cold.
Another great one!
Jason, I actually meant to write that the woman's heart "pools warm honey" but forgot to change it. Maybe I'll make a late edit.
Thank you for the lovely words!
Poetry in prose. Alive and vibrant. Brava Sarah!
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