Some couples have “their song.” In the movies, lovers swoon, turn sentimental when it comes on a jukebox. Now, spouses make it their ring tones. This is the closest thing we’ve got. True story.
We had no business climbing.
I didn’t have the right shoes.
I had rarely walked so far,
never climbed so high.
But we walked anyway, always up.
Through pine forests
past smooth granite and
thickets of rhododendrons
across rocky ridges of shale.
Above the tree line
we labored in a boulder field on all fours.
Early though, we heard the song of a white throated sparrow.
Whether we chased him up or merely followed,
the whole way up Mt. Washington
echoed across those ridges, around the turns,
back and forth on switchbacks
until its song soared into our memories
across all those years.
Today there is one at my feeder,
a white throat.
I heard his song in the barren
shrubs outside my window.
We walk on flat ground now.
Four pure notes
still accompanying our climb
to listen, click here. ( Scroll down, click on “Song”)