Thursday, April 30, 2015

Ridge Song

Mabel and I took a hike along the ridge this evening as the sun slid down the western sky. We sat on a soft fall of earth, in a fine and perfect place.

The sharp cry of a sandhill crane punctuated the evening air. After a quiet interlude, an intermission in the ridge song, a bird whose voice I did not recognize, sang a sweet lingering note.

We took the steep slope to the moss trail along the cedar swamp. The light was filtered and dreamy amid the ferns.

With quiet steps, we slowed our pace. As we left the woods, we saw the moon against the still blue sky, caught in the branches of the maple tree where crows keep watch over the fields.

Where ever you are, whatever the weather, I wish you peace.


Pom Pom said...

Beautiful! You are such a fine writer, A! ❤️

Aisling said...

Thank you, Pom. It was a beautiful walk after a busy day!

Out on the prairie said...

Enjoyed reading about your charming moment. I listen often to the sounds around me comparing them to a symphony or opera. I haven't heard the spring song of the catbird yet, they have a nice variety of song at this time.

One Woman's Journey - a journal being written from Woodhaven - her cottage in the woods. said...

Love your words
such special words...
Looks so cold
in your area.
finally going to 80
45 at the moment.
The sun will feel good.