The geese have decided it's time to fly overhead again.
To us they all sound the same, repeating their single screech over and over in a noisome raucous. But to each other it's a cacophony of life. Each with their own unique voice, it's like a litany of emotion. The old wearily affirm their position and reassure those for whom this is their first time. The young shout their joy and fear in a single cry. It an applause and a chorus of laughter, a mob of distress and a struggle to pull everyone together. Its a labor of love and a journey universally abhorred. It will kill some, it will bring prosperity to many. They flee the death behind, and they greet the salvation ahead. While all around them, life in all it's many expressions, cries out to declare its presence.
Perhaps these geese are trapped in their bodies, slaves to their migration, and only able to scream a single note in blindness and inability to communicate anything but dumb sound. In which case it is a passing above that is the very symbol of despair. Or maybe it is pure release of exactly what their deepest feelings are for all to hear and call back their own. A great assembly of freedom to life and self expression and appreciation, they rise their voice together and unite in their commotion of pure reality in its own lucidity.
