Phantom flock
honking overhead—the voices of many, but no geese in sight. The snowflakes move
unhurriedly toward the lawn. Then the birds appear in a cluster, moving out of
the clouds, everyone crying, crying—stay together! Stay together! Over the
hill, in the clearer air, the crowd strings out into a check as they continue
north. The voices drop away. “You there?” “Yeah, still here.” Geese
know things that no advanced degree can tell you. Good thing they don’t need my
help.
We do not begin
to know how to
get our flock
from here to
summer.
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