Issue III ‧ Pluvia Literary Magazine

A December
night
BY VICKY NGUYEN
Obsidian sky, Pacific cold snaps
Glaze backyard grass and graze frontyard glass.
Nightlamp’s soft glow, fireplace roars,
I slide my fingertips across the keyboard, lingering on the ivory tabs.
Yet, the keyboards are jammed, and melodies are entangled
Like laugher trapped in clenched teeth as the cold pricks.
So I turn to A minor staccato, then accelerando
A tribute to crystalline birches and snowy rail tracks.
The notes, joining hands together
Fly from their long-captivated residence, the barred staffs,
And swing up and down to dance away the night
Along with the flurries outside.
Forte notes following horse footprints in the sunset
become decrescendo when reaching snow-clad hamlets with smoking chimneys.
Sharps and flats mingle exquisitely
as snow and darkness entwine, crafting a rich harmony.
Time seems to no longer exist
when you play piano on a December night
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