Waiting

The Canada Goose who left this bit of feather behind for my wonderment last fall must be aware of the lengthening days. At the edge of some reawakening southern woodland or perhaps in a sunny park with mothers and babes in strollers, I hope he or she has a memory of the place where this whisp of warmth and flight remained behind. The wheel is turning and the arc of the sun is steadily climbing above the horizon where it lay diminished - except in the longing of the human heart .