The Escape of the Oriole - Concluded
As Martin gazed at the woman, he believed her to be a nymph.
The pipes continued with their haunting melody.
"I’d never thought such exotic places existed…”
"It must be a special day for you." She smiled.
It was as if a flower suddenly blossomed out
Or a nestling had stretched its wings
And embarked on its maiden, glorious flight.
"It's my twenty-fifth birthday." She nodded.
"Everything about this place is magic.”
“Why don’t you join me for a swim?"
Some instinct told Martin to be careful.
“Come away with me," he implored.
"You don’t know what you’re asking.
I can never leave this place.
It would mean death to me."
Suddenly, he heard the screech of the kestrel.
The flute went on with its haunting, menacing melody.
“You must go quickly. “ she said.
But Martin lost all reason.
He lifted his gun and shot.
The kestrel fell dead at his feet.
The sound of the pipes was foreboding.
Fog descended on the now turbulent lake.
Heavy wind began to blow.
He left reluctantly, cursing his luck.
As he left the cliff,
He felt some force throw him to the ground
Under the shade of a mighty tree.
Someone was shaking him up.
It was the young woman urging him up,
Wiping a wound on his forehead.
He looked at her in awe, especially her yellow dress.
He searched for the opening on the cliff but found none.
“Let’s go to have something to drink,” she said.
He smiled with elation.
Above the trees, golden orioles chirped melodies of love.
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