Waltzing–does anybody waltz any more? Does anyone go out for a dinner eaten by candlelight, accompanied by soft music, and dancing? Or, is that a part of the past, seen only in old black and white movies? From what I’ve seen of today’s dancing, I’d say the waltz is antiquated, a thing of yesterday, or maybe just a shadow in my imagination. It’s hard to believe that it used to be thought of as scandalous!
Yesterday, as I was driving, I glanced up through my car’s windshield and there, far, far above me in the gray and rainy sky, were flocks of wild geese–no, not a flock, but many Vs of them, winging their way southward too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many flying together. Dozens of them, maybe a hundred. They were not flying low, but high. They had no intention of lighting anywhere near or any time soon, they had a journey in front of them and they needed to get there. Where had they come from? How far were they going? Were they out-running wintry weather somewhere up north?
I’ve always loved to see wild geese. I love to hear their haunting cry. When I see them, I want to go too, pack up a few belongings and take off for other parts. I’m reminded of a song by Frankie Laine, The Cry of the Wild Goose.
Something about wild geese speaks to my poetic heart and feelings that have no words. However, being a writer and words are all I have to convey feelings, I try. This one is from many years ago and is in The Heritage of Etta Bend.
Migration
High up in the sky last night, a promise winged its wedge-shaped flight–
A promise of the seasons changing, of nature’s landscape, rearranging.
Flying in a V formation, looking for a new location,
Wild geese flew through moonlit spaces, going to their autumn places.
How many generations past have gazed at the sky, heard that wild, haunting cry, and said that cold weather was coming, would soon be here? What or Who tells the wild geese when it’s time to go? Who put that instinct within them to protect them from a winter where lakes would be frozen and they couldn’t find food? It’s one of the mysteries of life and I’m glad that it is a mystery.
There is no mystery about the fact that this is critique day! All the Cozy Critters who can be here, will be. I’m looking forward to hearing what each one has been reading or writing or painting. Jane tells me she has a poem about the lovely nighttime sky. Peg will have read some more fascinating cozies. Nancy has been busy traveling, speaking, writing. And, I’ll probably give a brief sketch of last Saturday at the library and reading an excerpt from By the Fright of the Silvery Moon.
As we all waltz into Wednesday, may it be a pleasant day filled with peace and love and joy. Autumn is here, changes are coming. Let’s enjoy this beautiful season. It won’t come around again for another whole year!
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