Mountains are meant to be crossed

I crossed the longest mountain range overnight in a Boeing 757, last row from the back right by the restrooms. Banging doors, nauseous flush after flush couldn’t stop the rush because, for the first time in my life, I was headed somewhere. I won’t lie, it was bumpy crossing that cold mid-ocean ridge, even from miles overhead, but the lushness of Ireland awaited me. The lime grass around St. Patrick’s Cathedral, wet from rain, and the bells that Sunday morning sang, and sang, and sang. It was my first time hearing the bells, don’ you now, and to feel the freshness of the morning in a new place, well the flag of freedom was lifted. Ireland, as good a place as any for a fairytale to begin.

Blarney stone kisses,

mountains are meant to be crossed;

a new yarn to spin.

D’Verse Poet’s Pub Haibun Monday-Frank is our host. Write a haibun about a Cold Mountain. Join us.


    • Thank you kindly, Frank. Oh man, I can see it. Those rolling green hills and people so kind and inviting. I haven’t met many like them anywhere else in the world. I would love to spend more seasons there.

      Liked by 1 person

    • Yes, well, there’s more than one way to get around them, isn’t there? I’ve never tunneled through any, but I can imagine it would be harder to keep going. Thanks for connecting with me here, Ron.


    • Thank you for this kind comment. Adventures and travel have always paid off for me. The eyes open and the heart ready to learn whatever lessons come next.


    • I could see that dampening things. I took this trip over fifteen years ago. I think is more about the destination and what you’re willing to go through to reach if, including crossing mountains.


  1. And so ‘a fairy-tale begin(s)’ – sounds like you have a strong dose of wanderlust 😎. Lovely haibun – can’t wait to start travelling abroad again.


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