There is no explanation for the strange yearning that takes hold of me.
I hear the calls of the wild geese echoing across the valley and my eyes and heart are hypnotically drawn to the sky.
I want to fly and to follow the wind and the muted cry of the winged leader.
The sunshine casts their shadow across my wistful countenance while they somehow use it's angle to calculate and correct their course.
They know their destination.
Every fall, every spring - they leave me below as they disappear over the horizon.