[ A ]

Long ago, in Kentucky, I, a boy, stood

By a dirt road, in 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.

[ B ]

Tell me a story.



In this century, and 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.