GHOST GEESE

Gladys T wrote, "Some of the days in November carry the whole memory of summer." Keats asks, "Where are the songs of spring?" Verlyn K had watched snow fall "out of a goose gray sky". He felt he'd fallen far behind the season. I feel that I've fallen behind, too. With no hope of catching up. But I opened a random book to a random page and read a few random words by Sue Monk Kidd. "I felt a lavish sweep of happiness..." What does that stir in me? What does that stir in you? On this first day of Nov 2010 I look back over a long collection of moments swept by happiness. Yes, it's all there. Surely the future holds more such moments.

When the bus stopped the door folded itself open, Cedar leaped out and flew to my embrace. We took her backpack and jacket to the flat and left for a tour of the neighborhood. We plucked four soft lamb's ears and caressed them with utmost tenderness. We discovered a fuzzy dandelion snuggled in the grass. "Go away!" it begged. "I am the last of my kind." But falling to one knee Cedar snatched it up and blew the seeds away. They danced lightly on a golden breeze and promised to return multiplied. Then I pointed out a tall grass seed head that looked like a tiny squirrel tail. Cedar was delighted! Then I showed her where the silver maple had dropped its chamois-sided leaves. I'd seen them on a moonlit night and thought a gaggle of ghost geese had left their pale tracks all about. I picked up two perfect goose steps and walked them up the sky. Cedar laughed and so did I. Farther along we came upon a few flaming Japanese maple leaves caught in the grass. Of course, we set them free.