Beginning with curiosity and flourishing into a deep-held desire, the bird went out alone on a long migration, turning away from the safety of the flock.
Its sight is set on the summit of the mountain, a craggy peak behind screens of mist and fog.
It was a long way, stretching out two hundred miles of rugged land.
Though the bird pressed on, its feathers and claws refreshed by new wind, wet by new rain.
It found shelter under jagged alcoves, beside writhing streams, and within warm hollows of Cedars, every day rising again and resuming its strange flight.
Until at last, weeks of solitary passage brought the bird to the mountain.
