geese in flight and fears at night
Driving down a country road yesterday, I watched a sky filled with geese flying in strange patterns. Just as I realized that they were strange patterns, I heard a POP! and as I looked over my left shoulder, I watched a goose fall from the sky PLOP! onto the ground.
Honestly, I didn’t need to see that.
Hours later, listening to howling wind in the night, I wondered about the geese. Where are they now? A field, perhaps, huddled up against the woods? They would know the best place to ride out the storm.
I flick on my smart phone, not so smart at 3:00 am. Smart would be to turn over and go back to sleep, but I don’t. Wind whistling and trees shaking, I scan dire predictions, facebook frights and meteorologists’ excitement.
I think of my friends in St. Louis, who purchased a steel box within which to seal themselves up during storms. I recall dogs and cats sinking to the ground, slithering slowly underneath furniture during those ferocious storms, and my desire to follow them. After 24 years living in the midwest, knowing the power of thunderstorms and tornadic winds, I can appreciate the feeling of safety knowing there’s a steel box in the garage with my name on it.
I read about one guy who was pierced by a tree landing on his bed, just over an hour ago, a few states south.
Around 5:00 am, I’m awakened again, this time by the sounds of thousands of geese. Flying in, landing on the cove, they surround the tiny schoolhouse. with their honks and chatter.
I fall backwards into sleep again, in the company of geese, on Harris Creek. No steel box, but a strong roof. And a sense of safety, knowing that the geese have landed back on the water, and are settling in.
I fly into a dream, arms outstretched, slowly rounding the cove. Feet out ahead, I land, skimming the water.