Canada Geese on Lake Windermere, souls flying across the night ...

Walking back to Low Wray, late one afternoon, we became aware of dark shapes in the air - above us, low in the sky, were powerful, shapely, birds - they flew in purposeful gangs, wheeling, circling,  just above the slate blue lake - we heard their strange cries in the gathering twilight -

We were returning from Wray Castle, taking the path along the lake shore - the trunks of the oak trees were like knotted torsos - a faint wind barely stirred the lake - some fallen oak leaves floated upon the water -

There were sheep in the field behind us - I thought of the anguished temptress in Under the Skin - this was a place where she might ensnare a hapless vodsel - 

Suddenly, rays of sunlight emanated from a rift in the purplish black cloud - they were like search light beams, sweeping across the darkening fields - I looked up, hoping for a UFO - the sheep were quiet creatures in a dream -

Then we saw the birds - they were, we thought, Canada Geese - we wished that Penny was with us - her sure eye would identify these winged strangers instanter -

We stared at the geese, now resting upon the water - we spoke in wonder of the migration of birds - they were like our souls, I thought - I pictured the time to come, when our souls would fly through the night, singing their true song -