Melvin the Penguin

February 16, 2010

Melvin the penguin stood at the lip of a small island of ice, floating farther and farther from the shore.  He did not swim back.  He did not glance away from the shrinking mountain of ice, gradually swallowed by the seamless blue of the ocean and the sky.  Majestically, he stretched his spine straight, the egg-yolk yellow fading into white as it curved down his belly, and opened his beak with his tongue curled under itself, tasting the seawater as it spun through the air.