An Early Morning Symphony

I exhale, and a deep sigh of relief escapes my lips. I can see it - the top. The brink, the peak, whatever you want to call it. But there it is; the goal of my mission. The reason I have climbed so far, without so much as a pause. Only a few metres away.

Picking up speed, I force my legs to keep moving, to cover that distance, using the last few wheezes and pants left inside me. The wind picks up, and my hair whips my face. Nearly there ... just a few more agonizing steps ...

I've made it. I have actually done it! I turn and look out, letting the achievement sink into my skin like water seeps into soil. There is none higher than me now - for I am standing at the top of the highest mountain, looking down at the wonderful world below.

I drop the case that was hitched on my shoulder, and open it. The sun's early glow, it's gleam dimmed by the clouds, flashed on the smooth wood, making it look alive. Taking my cello from its snug home, I wander across the peak, looking for a sturdy rock to sit on.

This was the main reason for climbing so high up. For so long I have wanted to let the velvet sound float on the wind, being carried across the land like the sun rise. And this was my time to do it.

I sit with my cello cradled against my body, and sigh. The early morning air seeps into my nostrils, freezing my windpipe and moisturizing my lungs. The birds' call swoops through the air like the tiny bodies themselves, dipping and rising with the ever-changing breeze. Now was my chance to let my music flow with theirs.

I place my bow on the strings, and begin to play.