Avoidant
behaviour

Roshni Riar
Staff Writer

A Winter's View

Naomi Ambrose
Staff Writer

  

 

  

Falling from the sky above,

white like the blank pages on my lap

the snowflakes emerge with the strength of a dove,
flying quietly and mightily—with no time for a nap.

  

 

  
 

 
     
  
  
  
    
   
  
  
     
  
  
  
     
  
  
  
     
  
  
  
    
 
 
   
   
    
   
   
   
 
 

I’ve become a stranger to myself

again. In the quiet of the morning,

I brush my teeth without the lights

on, concentrate hard on the grime that
collects around the tap. I examine my grey

  
  
  
  
 

 
  
  
  
 

Beneath the fury of the army of flurries,
the river is quiet and steady
as if it knows the secrets of the snow’s countless stories,

   
  
  
 

 
  
  
  
 

  
  
  
  
 

 
  
  
  
 

   
   
 

 
  
  
  
 

  
  
  
  
 

 
  
  
  
 

fe of travellers who dream of the day they’ll be ready. sludge buildup and how it spreads a little further
4 every day. I breathe heavy against
mg The wise traveller who walks in the snow, the weight that creeps into my lungs.
= he knows that it is best to walk with a smile Two feet clad in steel-toed
9 for the snow fills itself with a glow, boots dance the tango on my chest
a ! into the hearts of the happy traveller who travels further than a mile. like they're stomping on the grave
ar of an ex-lover. Squeezing,
on No better way for the regular commuter, pressing. I’ve been avoiding
a tae to love the beauty of the icy sheets my own gaze, that despondent stare stuck
LM 3 that fill up the river like a powerful computer, inside the mirror stretching out in front of me.
‘ in a winter world of wet, snowy streets. I don’t hate my reflection like I used to,
eee but I still think she’s sick. She twists,
F Inside the frosty river, some trees stand tall and empty, contorts, splashes toothpaste on the mirror
f peer with nothing but bare branches. and never cleans it up. I rinse my mouth, spit
ool How wonderful, then, for the snowflake assembly, and leave her behind me. Don't look back.
at to light up the trees like a sheriff's collection of shimmering badges. I hide the tremor in my jaw, the desperate
oF ae bobbing of my throat. Can't give myself away,
El Some pieces of wood float by—like sailing on a boat; not before I’ve forgotten what the curve of
ied that is destined to land on the nearby shore. my mouth twisted downwards looks like. Not

Perhaps it is the boats’ time to stay afloat,
as I have seen many times before.

until it’s tucked away behind the memory
of my first-grade combination-lock sequence.
I don't want to remember, at least not yet.

   
 

Amazed I was at the small raindrops,
as they wiggle to the beat of the wind

passing along the windows—even when the train suddenly stops;
like it sees Old Man Winter's cheeky grin.

  

While hiding the trees on the distant small island,
the snow shows the strength of its power

by wrapping itself on the ground of the island;
though not quite as tall as the CN Tower.

   
 
   
   
 
   
   
   
    
 
 
    
 
   
   
   

From the view of my window,
the buildings in the far distance

cannot match the showers of snow,

that hide the sight of the buildings’ rigid existence.

  

It’s a wonderful sight for the traveller to see,
the ten-dozen bright, yellow lights

across the freezing river that’s far away from me,

ona gloomy, chilly morning—dark like winter nights.
Bie, |
A few container ships stand still in the river, fhe
as if trapped in a sea of ice;

too frozen to flow with a lot of vigour,
and too cold to see the beauty of an icy winter paradise.

  

Shielding away the rows of green bushes,
the flurries are massive yet light

while adding some colour and fulfilling the wishes

of travellers who long for a winter, marvelous and bright.