April Interlude: Winded at the Notch
The song of the morning was written on a sheet of grey, with bursts of blue and sunlight. The melody, constantly shifting, one moment driven, the next passive and calm, pushed us upward. The refrain was familiar, winding in and out, around bends, limiting the view before grandly opening it up with a flurry. Preceded by a whistling and a howling, the score peaked with a cacophony of shrill flute. and pounding keys. We sought shelter beside cold grey stone and red painted well-weathered wood; a brief respite allowing breathing and beating hearts to settle. Testing, walking to the edge and peering over, beyond, where notes swirled across mountainsides, helter-skelter, jumbled and confused, yet somehow finding their way, joining, coalescing into a rhythm. Steady. Steady. A pause, before the white dog of the mountain barked nearby, the cymbals crashed, and the drumbeat with thrumming bass plunged quickly down rocky slopes, before slowing, dragging to a welcome finale. Yes, this April interl...
