Geese In Winter

Full of courage, winter, geese fly north. The car almost wouldn't start. Drive along the Mohawk flood plain. Cattails, grasses, no doubt ash and elm. Restful tans and browns. Flat, low, but still city. Arrive at the interview. Corner of State and Clinton, luminous blue corporate logo between empty store fronts. That they might not offer me the job and they might, make me equally sad. Fly in formation, life for pay. Young, my boast had been distances and heights traveled. Now any road serves well as the long narrow road to the north. The cold, quiet solitude of that road would serve well too. The story of Sally, the story of John. It takes an advanced, healthy economy to produce science and technology but aborigines may track animals and draw symbols in the sand, give each cloud and bird and tree a personal secret name. And explain according to a logic for which we need equations how geese in winter flow north today.