It had been feeling like Spring all day— soft wet ground (read: muddy dogs) and air that smelled fresh and new even though we are deep into the third week of December.
“Go goose go! Hurry hurry hurry! Catch up!”
Although it disappeared from sight before reaching the tribe, I like to think it found its way back into the fold before darkness fell, a bit breathless, perhaps, but soon tucked into the safety of the flock’s swiftly beating wings.