Stavanger Bay whale song

”Sundown in the Paris of the prairies,”

His voice lifted from a hum, saltcoarse but reverent and with a light tremble of vibrato. He had been told often before that he never did sing a song the same way twice- which he took to be a compliment. While his voice didn’t have the same polish as others who practiced the art, there was a sincerity with every word that went unparalleled. 

He squinted as he looked out over the ocean, lips peeled back slightly as he tasted the briny air. He went back to humming, matching the tempo of his phrases to the ebb and flow of the waves. 

He spotted the whale bones first- standing like old, windbleached trees, leeched of their bark and branches. He paused and squinted again as he realized there was something- someone, perhaps- on the other side of the great bone arch. A gust of wind revealed a lock of fur. He tilted his head and sidestepped, brow lifting with surprise as he noticed the woman now, bestowing kiss after kiss to the white bone. Something fluttered in his chest to see something almost reverent in nature. The oddness of her habit did not bother him; he was, instead, inspired. 

Lucky bone, He murmured, loud enough that she might hear him, but gently enough that he hoped she might not see him and take fright.