At the Pond One summer I went every morning to - TopicsExpress

At the Pond One summer I went every morning to the edge of a pond where a huddle of just-hatched geese would paddle to me and clamber up the marshy slope and over my body, peeping and staring— such sweetness every day which the grown ones watched, for whatever reason, serenely. Not there, however, but here is where the story begins. Nature has many mysteries, some of them severe. Five of the young geese grew heavy of chest and bold of wing while the sixth waited and waited in its gauze-feathers, its body that would not grow. And then it was fall. And this is what I think everything is all about: the way I was glad for those five and two that flew away, and the way I hold in my heart the wingless one that had to stay. - MARY OLIVER

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