Long ago in Kentucky, I, a boy
Stood by a dirt road at first dark
And heard the great geese hoot northward.
I could not see them
There being no moon and the stars sparse.
I heard them.
I did not know what was happening in my heart.
It was the season before the elderberry blooms,
Therefore, they were going north.
The sound was passing northward.
Tell me a story.
In this century in moment of mania
Tell me a story.
Make it a story of great distances and starlight.
The name of the story will be Time,
But you must not pronounce its name.
Tell me a story of deep delight.
"Audubon: A Vision," Robert Penn Warren
[Chicago Avenue at Winchester Street]
