There is nothing on earth like seeing and hearing wild geese fly by. There is something in the way they fly that tugs your heart out of your chest, and leaves you aching to fly with them. I hear them honking from a distance, and I drop everything and run outside with my face turned up to the sky. I wait with a hitch in my throat and a longing I can never get rid of. They come into view with their wings flapping, their long necks outstretched.The honking has a ring of joy and freedom to it. They fly without hesitation, using instinct to guide them home. There has never been a single time when my heart does not tug to follow them. I stand like one carved out of stone, not moving a muscle, even when I can no longer see or hear them. The wonder is so incredible, I stand transfixed for a long time, staring at the horizon.

Yu/stan/kema.

I read the following poem recently about a woman’s experience with the wild geese:

WILD GEESE

I heard the wild geese flying                          

In the dead of the night,        

With beat of wings and crying

I heard the wild geese flying.

And dreams in my heart sighing

Followed their northward flight.

I heard the wild geese flying

In the dead of the night.

ELINOR CHIPP.