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Geese
Fly in a Vee
Often shifting places
While the Vee remains true
In an unmeasured sky of knowing
A divining wedge cleaved from here and
Aimed for there - A perfect ancient memory
That lives outside of time but can define a season
The season of coming
And the season of going
Both smooth turning points
Attaching to either one always invites the wolf
And freezing or starving can find you only if chosen
Old age comes soon enough breathing gentle forgiveness
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