Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Last night, as the rain subsided, suppertime children drifted away from the table, and darkness lurked over our lake, we noticed two wild geese, elegant necks extended, standing on the ice remains, thaw current moving past slowly. The kids and I rushed outside and I held the half-naked one who shivered in my arms. We whispered together, isn't it beautiful, isn't it beautiful. The geese, suddenly airborne, huge, and honking, flew off toward openness, and to our delight, two ducks appeared behind them, quacking and flying, an air parade. Children jumping, yelling and shivering, we returned to our warm living room where she led her brother around the room in a wild bird dance, she the honking goose, he the quacking duck...and here, mama, you can be the tree. They flapped and twirled and followed, and then she went to her painting spot, pouring out blue and pale pink, this is for the sky and the feathers under the wild geese.