The Labradoodle (The Snowman re-imagined) – Juno Dog Blog 7 – The Holiday Edition

People are bummed out right now; about COVID; about frustrated travel ambitions; about difficulties around gathering, even outdoors. Here we go again, just like last year, which was supposed to the THE LAST YEAR of pandemic interruptions. We all just want to relax, and fly, just like the Snowman.

Amongst the clatter of cash registers (not yet reproduced online – coming to a one click digital merchant near your mouse pad soon) if you listen carefully enough, you just might hear him (still male gendered I sadly note). The Snowman. Sliding, sleeking through the sky, not laden with gifts like Santa, but like the waves of the seashore, unencumbered, free as a bird, a flying snow angel, ghosting  through our lives, like magic, mostly furtive though in a fleeting moment, close by, almost touchable, and singing.

We’re walking in the air,
we’re floating in the moonlit sky;
the people far below
are sleeping as we fly.

I’m holding very tight,
I’m riding in the midnight blue,
I’m finding I can fly
so high above with you.

On across the world
the villages go by like dreams
The rivers and the hills,
the forests and the streams.

Children gaze open mouthed,
taken by surprise;
Nobody down below
believes their eyes.

We’re surfing in the air,
we’re swimming in the frozen sky,
we’re drifting over icy
mountains floating by.

Suddenly swooping low
on an ocean deep,
rousing up a mighty monster
from his sleep;

We’re walking in the air,
we’re dancing in the midnight sky
and everyone who sees us
greets us as we fly.

I have always wanted to be able to fly. Daily I leap about, higher and higher as the muscles grow stronger and the will continues to strengthen. So far, I leap only a few inches in the air, but one day, one day . . . In my own doodle imagination, I too, can fly. And then, and only then, I will sing; and you may sing with me, right now.

We’re flying through the air,
We’re chasing all the birds, we see
The thrush and robin, close,
Until they take their flight, and flee.

I’m holding very tight,
My tiny rubber ball, so slight;
I’m running far out front
I steal away and out, of sight.

Interlude

All across the world
My playmates run and jump and play;
Long rivers and up hills
Through each and every day.

Humans gaze, now amaze,
an this game go long?
Time to go! No, no, no,
there’s time for one more song.

We’re sliding o’er the snow,
We don’t know where to go;
But what we know, we know
That we will not go slow.

A fancy you say. Yes, a fancy, something created from the imagination rather than from life. Fly, freedom, glide, travel, ease, distance . . . Amongst other great stories and themes, this is the season of imagination. Things are done, though in a new and highly imaginative way. Everything is possible, somehow, somewhere, everywhere.

So come fly with me, today without a plane, anywhere on the planet in your and our collective imagining. Bon voyage!

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