At four o'clock this afternoon, the sky was on fire.
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.
Only sorry note was the bray of a lost goose -- honking and honking as it sped across the sky all by its lonesome. The dogs and I stopped at the edge of the river and cheered it on.
"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.