Bird’s Eye Choreography in White

     A bird’s eye view of the yard shows an intricate design of travel and play. Like steps marked off on a dance chart the composition as a whole tells a story that the individual imprints, by the nature of close interpretation, don’t know. Only from above, when viewed from the second story window, does the ballet reveal itself. From one edge of the snow covered stage to the other the choreography is evident in spots and smears and steps and hollows.

     A perimeter path, which is walked in the frigid dark before the house retires for the night, borders the yard. This pas de deux is defined by a rhythm that is quick and light, duty hurried by the outer chill and the promise of a warm bed. Random gestures and sweeps litter the yard; the tempo of varied passage is indicated in depth and distance. The afternoon light paints those steps in drifted hollows of pale blue reflecting the colour of the sky.

     A visitor to the yard has left his signature in hesitant ovals grouped by four. The circles are spaced unevenly as a wary eye and twitching nose determined the speed of the dance. Still the path is straight as it cuts across the driveway running from the winter bare hedge to the pale-blanketed fields beyond.

     Concave rows in different widths record the passage of frozen balls sent spinning across the white expanse. Smaller furrows that end in miniscule piles are the result of an extended search for arctic treasures. Never alone, all these impressions are dueted by the passage of a constant companion, four feet that dance all the steps. Here they are spaced close together in a stately waltz. There the star player has leapt high leaving only the memory of two feet. The path veers and the steps become elongated, spread out by the speed of the dance. As with all ventures of youth and energy the scars remain of inexperience and exuberance. Spinning too fast, the flurry of spills and rolls is noted for all to see.

     There is a stick and a ball under the tree in a hollow that is soft grey and shadowed. Two sets of steps in concert range to the back door and then disappear up the snow-covered stairs to the kitchen.    

     Viewed from the upstairs’ window one can see that the ballet is only on intermission. The snow covered stage waits for the second act. 

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6 thoughts on “Bird’s Eye Choreography in White

  1. Lovely.UNFORTUNATELY, your first paragraph stuck a song in my head, where it will undoubtedly reside for the rest of the day. A song called "Only You" by Yaz, has the line "…looking from a window above, it\’s like a story of love"Your comments are cracking me up today – thanks!

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  2. I used to gaze at the snow in wonderwhen, of course, I was younger.Now, when I am getting oldthe fricken stuff, it is just cold!Not a great poet, I\’m afraid!Never deserving an single accolade!That\’s enough of that. LOL!!Poopdeck!

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  3. What I loved when I lived in God\’s country…snow country was the frost on the windows and second to that was how the trees and the branches would turn pure white. I was for a walk in St. Cloud, Minnesota about 38 years ago and I still have the perfect picture in my head of trees all lined up in Wilson Park witht hundreds of snow covered trees. I just wish I had a picture of that but then I guess I still do in my mind.So when I miss the north country that is the picture that pops up.

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  4. @IndigoEwww I hate when a song gets stuck in your head. Usually for me it\’s something like Frosty the Snowman…jee-ez. I just did it, crap :P@PappyA lovely limerick none the less Pappy and I couldn\’t agree more with you about the cold.@CherylThat sounds like a beautiful way to remember it. :)@Lottie-MaeThanks, you too.@AmyLOLLet me know how that works out.

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