Chirp

At fellow-blockhead David's house over the holidays, we were swapping stories of recent trips away. We'd all been north to winter hot springs, they to Akita, we to Fukushima. And we'd all gone hiking in snow shoes, they comfortably clipping their own footwear into the frame, we renting inflexible ski boot/snow shoe sets that chafed our calves.

I told of our walk along the Goshiki-numa nature trail with its green and blue ponds. How wildlife was sparse until I heard a bird call in the canopy above. But when I stopped to listen to it, it kept silent no matter for how long I waited, only to chirp again while I was crunching through the snow. And so it went, me straining to hear the cunning bird.

Until I realized I was listening to the occasional squeak of my own snow shoes.

--Julian