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Friday, September 05, 2003 About twenty minutes ago. Daylight fading fast, evening giving way to night. The moon hangs well above the southwestern horizon, growing steadily brighter as the sky around it darkens. I hear a brief, sudden sound, almost like a voice -- just one quiet exclamation, then the rural silence reasserts itself. Something catches my eye, a flicker of movement somewhere far above, maybe halfway between the moon and the sky's center -- a line of Canadian geese, flying quickly, noiselessly toward the southwest, perhaps heading toward warmer climes in advance of northern Vermont's long, intense cold season. Moving in silence, they disappear over the trees into the sunset's dying light. rws 8:13 PM [+]
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