The Wind’s Eye
by Ping Yi
On a Shinkansen over an iron bridge, I see a skier on the river, star of day glinting off her visor, gliding with the glee of youth, grooving with the grace of years, parting the week’s toil with the waters.
The bullet train whips onwards while I look for her, searching each face with the eye of the wind, tapping each door with fingers of wordless light, along streets handsome beyond age, across fields lush beyond seasons.
The doors whisper open at journey’s end, freeing happy commuters, tourists achatter. I sit by my window a little longer, to wish the skier happiness in life.
Ping Yi writes poetry, short fiction and creative nonfiction. After a three-decade detour in public service, he has resumed his lifelong interest in speculative, humour and travel writing. His work has appeared in Orbis, Litro, London Grip, Meniscus, Harbor Review, Vita Poetica, Litbreak and ONE ART, among others, and is forthcoming in The Stony Thursday Book. Ping Yi lives in Singapore with his spouse and their son.