A Long Walk

By William J. Seifert

As Padraig left the tavern, the snow blew sideways. His heart was full. His eyes were merry. But his legs were a bit unsteady, like two old trees tempting sleep. He pointed his nose in the direction of home. His boots coughed forward. The cold bit back. The street lost its shape in the falling snow.

And in an instant, he was on his back, a flipped snow covered turtle watching white angels dance above him. After some disorientation, some calculation, he heaved himself on his feet and continued home. Until, to his surprise, the tavern lights shone in his eyes.