Monday, November 24, 2014

"The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,
Ya-honk!  he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation:
The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listen closer,
I find its purpose and place up there toward the November sky."
-   Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, 1855, I Celebrate Myself, Line 238

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