High above the roof tops, against the very sky itself, a long thread of geese fly north across the city. How uncanny, I thought, how a large number of birds could keep this line intact. A deeper force of Nature holds them to a pattern, guiding them over mountains and open gulfs, on a long distance journey back to their birth places. I hear the call of the geese as the days roll into the faint beginnings of summer. Some things in this world are not tied to human will, but serve a higher power that is linked to the ages, moving in cycles and the turning of the world.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
The Call of the Geese
High above the roof tops, against the very sky itself, a long thread of geese fly north across the city. How uncanny, I thought, how a large number of birds could keep this line intact. A deeper force of Nature holds them to a pattern, guiding them over mountains and open gulfs, on a long distance journey back to their birth places. I hear the call of the geese as the days roll into the faint beginnings of summer. Some things in this world are not tied to human will, but serve a higher power that is linked to the ages, moving in cycles and the turning of the world.
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