Honk If You Treasure Moments

I live in the middle of a Canada Goose flyway, and for the most part I always have.  In the fall they can blacken the sky at times.  It's seemingly endless, awesome in it's scope, a 24 hour per day phenomenon. They come over in delta shaped squadrons, hundreds at a time, honking and squawking 10,000 feet up and always climbing.

 In the day when the traffic is heavy and the planes are flying over you have to search them out, listen close for them. At night, when only the occassional whoosh of faraway cars breaks the night, when light spills out from doorways and windows onto night black grass in soft yellow polygons, you can't miss them. You can hear them barking from miles away, growing louder, not a trace of them in the sky, then like a quick storm they're overhead, white silhouettes against a black sky. Listening to them tonight I wondered how many more seasons I'll have of this. 20 more, 40? Who knows? I could be gone tomorrow for all I know. It made it that much more precious for me. And from thoughts on the fleeting nature of my corporeal self, from thoughts of impermanence, I drifted to thoughts of how long the geese have been flying over this piece of land. My city has only been here for a century. Were they flying over the place where my chair sits now then. A hundred years before that? Will they one day fly across a wasteland that was once us, or will we one day recollect days when they filled the sky, straining in our imaginations to hear their abrasive honks again?  i guess its best just to enjoy the moment for now.