...the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
--"Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver
All afternoon, the sun has shone. Stand in the sun and the heat envelopes you. But turn the corner into the shadows , and there it is: the small chill just at the nape of your neck. Late last evening as I closed the door to the porch, I heard them again--the geese-- moving across the dark planet. Autumn, I said to myself. The season turns.
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