IT IS SNOWING IN MY WORLD

It was rarely snowing in the South.

Snow was precious.

I was waiting for it everyday in winter

In front of a north-facing window,

When I was a child.

Usually,

There was one day

That marvel happened.

As I woke up,

Rubbing my eyes,

Something dazzled.

Nervous and excited,

Guess and expectation.

It is true,

It’s snowing!

I shouted out in my heart.

The room without lights on brightened in a moment.

Rushed out of home.

It was sacred to start the first motion.

Footprint was marked in the white carpet.

Breathlessly,

I kept moving,

Drawing a line on the earth.

Bowing my head,

I gazed at the rhythmic relation between my feet and their marks.

Started from the heel,

Snow was carved by a curve,

Not so deep, a little bit shallow

In the front horseshoe.

Then, the fibers poured out

Under pressure along the fat soles,

Like surf breaking when warship is crashing into an iceberg.

A flat continent was left.

Silent.

Half second later,

Another era began.

I stared at the downy white.

Cotton candy, salt, spray, ash?

Or whatever, I didn’t know.

The layer knitted by crystals was covered by layer

And layer

Over layer again.

Listen!

Creak.

One, two, three, four.

One (♩), two (♩), three (♩), four (♩).

One (♪), two (♪), three (♪), four (♪).

One (♪), two (♪), three (♪), four (♪).

One (♩), two (♩), three (♩), four (♩).

The acoustic lines flying up,

Spiraling,

Twisting,

Expanding,

Swelling.

They hit the boundary of air,

Like fish school fighting with the net.

Clouds vibrated with waves.

Light blocked by the crowd.

Suddenly,

The arrows broke through the membrane.

Resonance banged.

Lines fleet away,

Fading out in the sky.

Snowflakes were keeping falling.

Softly,

With light smoke.

Snow was growing

From feet, to shin, to knee.

But I was sinking

From hands, to mouth, to eyes.

In the path, I saw the snow section—

One layer of soil,

One layer of leaves,

One layer of sand,

One layer of seeds.

It’s getting warmer

Despite no fire, no light.

I felt sweet and comfortable,

Dreaming of my grandma

And steaming red bean soup.

The track extended miles and miles away,

I was shrinking and shrinking to a point.

The point crept on the line

That digging into the earth.

Follow,

Without settling.

Wherever you go;

Whenever I am looking.

Childhood

Autumn and winter

Soft arms embrace little hands

Sunset chasing blue sky

Dream

Daydream

Letter melting away

Car braked in front of red line

Fireflies turned off lights

Line forgets length, is

Like father losing daughter

Path erased by snow

Far is far

Near is near

Far stars tuck me into bed

Long is long

Short is short

Long path smells like braised pork

Cold is cold

Warm is warm

Cold snow fills in a quilt

Linear is linear

Curved is curved

Linear grandma became a bow