This is a poem about geese and it's
called "The Life of Others."
It was written around this time of the year but in the North,
in New York state near the Great Lakes.
"The Life of Others."
"Their high-pitched baying as if in prayers unison, remote,
undistracted, given over utterly to belief.
The skein of geese voyages douth.
Hierarchic arrow of its convergence
toward the point of grace, swinging and rippling,
ribbon tail of a kite, loftily over lakes where
they have not elected to rest.
Over men who suppose Earth is man's, over golden earth,
preparing itself for night and winter.
We humans are smaller than they, and crawl unnoticed,
about and about the smoky map."
[APPLAUSE]