We were at the Perkins Memorial Tower yesterday, that can be accessed via the Appalachian Trail, located near Bear Mountain in New York and it was breathtakingly beautiful. There was a couple making music near the parking lot. A young wispy woman perched on a rock while her partner strummed away on a guitar as she sang Leonard Cohen’s “a thousand kisses deep”. Nymph like, she elevated the mountain many rhythmic stanzas and the drop in the heart felt that much precipitous. The Universe conspires sometimes to have a nightingale in places you truly desire to hear one and this world of puzzling disparate parts becomes all the more better for it.
This poem is for that beautiful girl with the heavenly voice.
Notice how her wispy voice floats
like a dandelion seed in a breeze,
meant for a vestal Assumption. Our Lady
here was a Zephyr that swirled through
the senescent leaves of stately trees
and the trenchant needles of pine,
simply in song. This must be valour,
singing to a mountain side; amidst
the self same species that traipse around
in dissonant syllables stricken
by the contrivance of worldly commandments.
She isn't busking, nor basking in accolades
of the tone deaf rocky ledge. She is singing
to the wind because she can and she will
waste words into minutes past, in sounds
that challenge the awakening cicadas
while heartbeats mill around her tone,
rhythmically resonant in utter belief.