Fugue #150

"Ok. Who’s next? Emily? What do you have for us?"

Emily glances at Gene, she’s nervous, then at the teacher. She stands up, opens her notebook halfway, and clears her throat, "This is called ‘Tumbling Feet.’ "

feet caked with snow,
stomping it down
kicking it back up
rolling, churning through a foot of white powder -
running, we’re running panting holding hands,
trying to laugh, trying not to -
about to fall -
laughing, finally, and why and why not?

We are free, and the air is cold.

breaths puffing and eyes watering,
arms pulling and necks stretching -
forward ahead farther faster
than our heavy legs.

falling snow
snow falling snow fall tumble tumbling feet and finally,
poof! down in it.

Our eyes meet, our noses, our lips turn into smiles.

Snow is falling, melting over us -
we roll away from each other and look up,
and huge flakes, white then heavier darker gray,
pat our hot cheeks.

We lay there - breaths, but no words:
here, together in the land,
in the land alone.