It was a foggy Thursday morning in New York. Every where you looked there was a thick gray mist that obscured one's view in every direction.
It was a kind of murk that somehow even made my thoughts feel dull, with no point or edge or even brightness.
The sun struggled, in the early dawn, to push back and vaporize the damp veil, but instead hid, in the soft hush of the sky.
The streets looked as though life had stopped. That people for awhile, had no reason to get up and go. Better to huddle indoors, over hot cups of this and that. And, just wait, for the bright call that might not come on such a day heavy with gloom, were no shadows could rise or fall.
Nature had its way. No bright bits of man's invention would lift the weight of unseeing obscurity.
And in a small park I heard a bright sound pushing through the dim. If filled the stillness of the earth with a sweet melody that could not be held down by cloud and sky.
One lone goose stood and stared on big black webbed feet. Who knows what he saw, but I do know what he heard to capture his attention, and keep him from splashing away in the murky pond beside.
It was just some musicians rehearsing. Not a performance, not perfection, just getting better, and pushing back the damp cloak of gray for at least a little while.
Click the button to hear what the goose and I heard.