“I’m ready as I ever will be,” Daisy grumped.
Indeed she was.
The happy man threw his head back, boomed out in a voice that could have shattered stones,
We are climb-ing, Jacob’s Ladder—
Startled to hear her nephew sing so loud, the old woman laughed. But Daisy was far more astonished to hear Father Raes’s response:
Every round goes higher, high-er!
The elder called out in a raspy, cracking voice so lovely it pierced the hearts of angels,
Sinner do you love my Je-sus?
The priest’s voice filled the canyon:
If you love him—why not serve him?
The rhythm of the hymn vibrated in willow limbs.
Blissful syllables ricocheted off ancient stone walls.
All manner of feathered bird, furry beast, scaly reptile—even lowly invertebrates—the whole multitude took time off from their sundry tasks to listen and wonder.
The trio’s voices were heard by a three-toed woodpecker. A long-tailed vole. A collared lizard. Even a six-legged juniper hairstreak—a lowly creature of whom hardly anyone ever speaks.
Like the precious days and hours, the song proceeded along its way.
To here, there, and forever.
It mattered not that the vacuum of interstellar space cannot carry sound. Unfettered by lesser laws, the joyful words went forth to Brother Sun, Sister Moon, and well beyond the silent warp of space to penetrate that sly illusion called Time.
So far above them
So very near
Where life and light are eternal
Silver feathers on silver wings
rise up on the wind-song
Soar higher…higher
THE WITCH’S TONGUE. Copyright © 2004 by James D. Doss. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
ISBN: 978-0-312-31742-3
The Witch's Tongue Page 39
