Madrigal

slow, thin, custom-built, pious, madrigal

The landscape rolled of white. Small flecks of shadow flitted back and forth just beyond the point where I could focus and the tundra became a blurred horizon. Small darts of black images lined up in rows against the snow like a chorus of tuxedoed nuns. Penguins? No, I was too far North--forever trudging North until the arctic became habitable only to microscopic creatures living in the thin top layer of ice. They say the ice is a heaving city of microbes thriving within the frozen water. I could not imagine such a world. My world there was full of a singing silence that deafened me. The tuxedos teased my senses into believing that music came from the stillness in synchronized melodies of sixteenth-century madrigals.