These are the kinds of things I write in the summer. I may be sweating or catching a cooling breeze off the ocean in the Strait of Malacca, but my mind is bundled up, thinking of snowdrifts and the delights of a child’s first romp in the untouched winter wilderness. The following excerpt is from a short piece simply entitled “Snowflakes.” It will be a dramatic, poetic narrative to kick off our Christmas show in December. Enjoy!
A hushed winterland, a joyous hinterland – uncharted, crisp and clean, untouched by man or beast,
quiet and undisturbed, slowly awakened by the audible delights of a child,
with cumbersome boots sinking inches into the virgin land, unspoiled and serene, until perfectly molded footprints follow him in the snow as he sloshes every waking breath into the wonderland.
Vibrant eyes, large and bold like the static black coal of a snowman’s eye,
Pupils dilated with wide-eyed delight, writing tales of wonder on the lens of the eye.
Ruddy-red cheeks, puffy flesh, numb to the touch, indifferent to the coldness,
Warmed by the laughter and sighs and taut screams of glee directed at only one object: