Sunday, May 20, 2012



A gander, full of the sap of spring, spies a remarkably fine goose, with a well-turned ankle-spindle and an inviting eye; and proposes that they unite their fortunes, and set up housekeeping.  She consents.  Then Pan, unseen yet sensed, solemnizes their union; and for a brief instant their tiny brains like precious eggs atop their stalks of necks, resound to a prayer of thanksgiving and petition, for goslings – goslings! -- fluffy precious paddling appealing goslings, so sequent behind the pair now fairly bursting with gratitude and pride. 
They are fallen, as Nature herself fell, when her copestone tumbled mightily, by the serpent beguiled; yet they recall as if remembering Eden, when a strong sun shone on such pinions as line the wings of seraphim, and where their wedded fidelity and parental care  were a jewel in the unfallen firmament.
            So now, amid a world of mud, of reeds and weed-thick ponds, and drifting logs, they patiently recapitulate what little they recall, of flight before the fall.

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It is spring, and God's new handiwork stands unveiled.  He blesses the ducks with ducklings, the geese with goslings, each after their kind.  There is plenty to eat for everyone; no-one is trying very hard, mostly paddling about and enjoying the sun.  The river flows in its appointed bed, plants cast the shadows that are natural to them, laying lacy silhouettes across the stream.
A wedded pair stand on a bank, dainty-ungainly, distant image of their maker; well content, surrounded by their offspring, who stalk like kiwis among the swamp cabbage, as though on an Easter-egg hunt. The swift wings busily, spreading the news, with its unmistakeable cry, "praise-HIM, praise-HIM!"

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