The RESPONSE

I have been lonely

for many days. This day is

my favorite: I'm

at the pond and half

the water has been frozen

over. No birds in

its stillness, but a 

flock of geese linger in the

air — first in groups, then

altogether. Long 

necks outstretched, their golden down

glazed black against the

cloud-covered sky. Their

shape resembling that of a 

gun, with one goose at

the front, leading like 

a bullet, racing against

something I'll never

understand. I can't

hear them anymore — far, far.​​​