On Thursday, I was on my bike before dawn, cruising along the Ashokan Reservoir.
The sun was rising, turning the sky pink and purple. Great clouds moved slowly across the open sky. I looked out at the water and saw the sky reflected back at me.
Then they appeared: Canada geese in a giant V, crossing overhead, heading south.
"On August twentieth?" I wondered out loud.
I squeezed the brakes, screeched to a halt, and watched them disappear over the ridge line.
I hopped back onto my bike, moved