|
Twenty Geese
Straight from the textbook
that formation of twenty geese takes thirty seconds to glide overhead towards the specific compass point imprinted in the sky. Even their honking is preordained. We follow their last echoes towards home the way Vikings followed a hungry raven on a starless night. The weft and dew of the grass through which we trudge along our own well-worn towpath, our formations also trailing the predictable pattern. Old story book formula. The same middle. The same end.
|