Winning Entries!

Magnolia Quarterly

Winter Contest 2011 "Snow"

First Place

Drops

Charles R. McInnis

Two droplets of water atop a wave rushing toward the shore of the Caribbean Island, Martinique discussed their plight.

“Oh, I am so bored,” said Drip.

“Me too,” said his wife, Drop. “We do this every day—ride to the shore, lie on the beach, and then return to the sea. Then we do it all over again.”

“Let’s go somewhere—a vacation, perhaps. We’ll catch the last hurricane of the season, Zelda. It’ll be fun,” Drip suggested.

Drip and Drop, swept up in the hurricane winds, rode north compliments of Zelda, and along with billions of other rain droplets fell through the frigid air of the Smokey Mountains.

“I feel different already,” Drip said. “And you look so beautiful in white.”

“As do you,” replied Drop. “So gallant.”

The droplets, now crystals of snow, fell softly to the ground near a cabin in the woods. A small boy emerged, reached down, and cupped them in his hands. He formed them into a near-perfect sphere.

“We just arrived, and already we are in a ball. Want to dance?” asked Drip.

“Don’t be such a flake,” replied Drop.

Second Place

The Sapling

Sylvia Skrmetta — Saucier, MS

    

The old man watched from his window as the cold wind plucked the remaining lifeless leaves from the weathered pecan tree. That tree had seen good days and bad, had survived hurricanes and the worms that would have devoured its fruit. They had planted the sapling the day their first son was born—the tree had outlived the boy. But now, the branches hung without purpose, sap no longer carried life to its branches which were once strong enough to hold the tire swing for his children. He felt an affinity for the tree, a brotherhood of sorts, and he knew without reason this would be their last season.

    

The wall thermometer he had saved from his childhood home was his only weatherman and indicated 32 degrees inside his darkening house. He had chosen food over electricity this month, hoping that the Mississippi weather would hold through December. He chose wrongly. He pulled his wool hat over his ears as he stepped out onto the concrete steps.

   

Frozen flakes brushed his face as he starred into the pinkish gray sky. Oblivious to the cold, he smiled and watched as the snow accumulated on the ground and clothed the remaining limbs of the pecan tree. Snow was a rare event in these parts, and he had no intention of returning indoors and leaving the boy who was beckoning him to run in the snow around the sapling.

Third Place

Forget the snow in the driveway

—Stay warm by the fireplace

Joyce Lloyd — Gulfport, MS

     

A friend had offered to clear my driveway that cold Saturday morning in Illinois. But I had just bought a snow blower and I decided to do it myself. The manual lay on the floor in front of the fireplace where I’d read the steps for operating this impressive equipment.

  

A quick glance out my window at the wind—aka “the hawk” assured me that I needed to dress in layers. I put on my sturdy duck boots, a warm nylon jacket and a new fuchsia gloves and scarf set—wrapping the scarf around my neck three times. I looked like the Michelin tire man, but I was fashionable.

  

The garage door rose to reveal a foot or so of snow in the driveway so I pulled the starter handle and the blower slowly munched and tossed snow way down the driveway. Two yards down the driveway, a strong gust of wind whipped across the roof throwing icy snow all over my body. The “hawk” unraveled my fuchsia scarf in a whirlwind of color spiraling down in front of me. The blower quickly gobbled up the brilliant colored scarf like a glass of Chablis. Choking from her gluttony, she sputtered and died within seconds.

  

Oh no, this can’t be happening!  Embarrassed, I pulled the blower back into the garage and let the door down. I headed to the kitchen to make myself a cup of hot chocolate before calling my neighbor to ask him if the offer was still good.

Honorable Mention

Snowfall

Andrew Badger — Douglasville, GA

Last night’s snowfall wakes

me with an early dawn

of bright reflected light

damping daily rhythms

while wildlife neighbors snooze

still in snug wee beds.

I toss another log

atop the glowing coals

and open drapes to watch

the forecast rain become

a glinting glaze of ice,

preserving shapes, resisting

prints of pets and man,

repelling wind’s attempts

to sculpt the snow anew.

No sound, no sign of life

disturbs the white contours

of freshly landscaped yard.

And now, with second cup

of coffee, almost blind

from radiant, luminous snow,

I sit in solitude

cut off from friends and kin

Return to our current Magnolia Quarterly Contest guidelines