In the wind a song came soaring. Over the hill and through the rustling branches.

At first light and tinkling and whispering. Like little kisses on the ears before slipping away.

Then tumbling back with a hint of bass and a crescendo that hinted at its power

It made the heart ache and thirst for more, and my feet moved toward it with no ability

to stop the inexorable tide that pulled at my soul.

My head irresistibly turning toward the tune so that the mighty and mysterious chords could more

carefully feed my starving spirit.

I crashed through some brush and down a slope before stomping through a small brook,

oblivious to the new sogginess of my socks and boots.

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The song was closer now and far from being able

to sort out the patterns into recognizable or familiar musical styles,

my mind raced deeper

into the chaotic rapture of the completely new and stunningly beautiful.

Music had always

held a power over me, in a limited way at least,

to evoke emotion, but this was something

far greater and deeply moving.

For it was as if a lifetime of waiting had dulled my edge

but now I was keen and sharp and filled with purpose.

Scampering up a small rise covered in strange gray pebbles,

I met the full glory of the sound, unhindered by turn of hill or standing tree.

It’s force washed over me like amighty wind,

strangely pushing me back while pulling my ever onward. It was only

then that I saw the dragon.

His jeweled eyes seemed to blink once as I crested the mound

and suddenly the music stopped.

I lurched forward, almost falling flat on my face, as if

I had been walking into a very strong wind that instantly stopped blowing.

I recovered late and pulled up to stand just a foot or two from the tip of his enormous snout.

Instead of brimstone the warm breath smelled faintly of oranges.

The agony of his beginning to eat me was only

slightly less severe than the heartache I felt when I realized that

he couldn’t sing while chewing.