The sky dark, low, blunt as a boot; the last of the wild geese
rendezvous in Flint pond, glide into a maroon formation; mournful cries.

Today again we learned there had been theft: Kenny's new shoes,
books; then food from the kitchen. Like a bird or deer when it has been
shot, life flew out of the wound - as the quick breath hisses from a
punctured tire.

La beauté de la nature, said Landsman, est le silence de Dieu.

People shouldered their long packs and made they way to their SUV's.