I Am Penguin

The writer passes by an arctic pond where a lone penguin stands beside the water.


I am Penguin. 

I used to dance.  The dance of life, in frigid darkness: shuffle and hop, shuffle and hop.  Continuous movement in a troupe of hundreds, each fellow having a place, a rhythm, a beauty.  My dance is done now.

I used to swim.  The swim of freedom, in icy ink: dart and glide, dart and glide.  Aquatic acrobatics in solitary performance, each movement expressing power, agility, joy.  My swim is done now.

I used to love.  The love of hope, in warm hearts: flutter and thump, flutter and thump.  A perfect duet, each thought finding its complement, its peace, its mate.  My love is gone now.

And yet, I remain.  I am Penguin still.

The End

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