Their distant noise filled the sky. Their reedy calls and soft regular rhythm. About thirty or so wild geese about two hundred feet up, flying south for the winter. They were in near perfect V formation silouhetted against the sunset blue sky and moving with astonishing speed . Five or ten minutes later after the air had slowed down, I saw something floating and swirling to the ground. It was a complex thing and warm to the touch, still. It had fallen all that way, its precise time and angle, in order to land here at my feet. A feather and not snow after all.
|