How did the geese cross the road?
It’s that time of day.
It happens in the spring — at least once in the morning, at least once in the late afternoon.
Sometimes, at the very same time that motorists are returning home from work.
Suddenly, all traffic stops.
And everyone waits.
On certain streets of certain Canadian cities.
This late afternoon, on this particular street, Mother Goose leads her children across the road.
All seven of them.
A line of tiny, fluffy, yellow and tawny-coloured goslings follows her across, looking neither this way nor that, intent on doing their mother’s bidding.
And she’s intent on getting to the grass on the other side of the wide road.
It’s as if those big, noisy machines weren’t even there.
As if there weren’t humans inside those machines, staring, goggle-eyed.
Staring at the almost regal procession taking place in front of them.
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