Me:\u00a0 sitting outside with a cigar and a bourbon and soda.
\nMy wife: in a plane somewhere far away, flying, hurtling to help a dear niece.<\/p>\n
Happy niece.\u00a0 Sad me.\u00a0 My mate is in the sky, therefore, my eyes, too, focus heavenward.\u00a0 Every plane I see is hers, soaring, precarious, supported by oh so thin air and physics.\u00a0 I trust her life to this?<\/p>\n
Then, the unmistakable sound: whonk, whonk, whonk, two geese fly into my range of vision, winging urgently somewhere.\u00a0 In a second I know why.\u00a0 More whonking, more geese winging but from the other direction, from behind me out of the east, visible only as they clear our apartment building.\u00a0 A V of geese is flying past directly above me, each blaring messages one to the other and other and other down the line to the last one, the Private First Class Goose.\u00a0 Now another V flies above me, just seconds behind the first which I still see flying west into the cloud-shrouded sunset.\u00a0 Another few seconds, another V.\u00a0 Serial lines in the sky, dotted black lines moving across the sky, RAF and American bombers on their way to Dresden.\u00a0 Now, wait: here’s another and a few seconds later a fifth line, squadrons of geese, V’s of geese, raucous, dotted black lines one after the other moving above me, flying west to meet a fate I know nothing about.<\/p>\n
Sky Lines<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Me:\u00a0 sitting outside with a cigar and a bourbon and soda. My wife: in a plane somewhere far away, flying, hurtling to help a dear niece. Happy niece.\u00a0 Sad me.\u00a0 My mate is in the sky, therefore, my eyes, too, … Continue reading