The geese in the park are protected, so the grass and sidewalks are covered in goose shit pellets.
Sometimes they get aggressive.
Sometimes they talk in human voices.
Sometimes when I walk into my house, there is an odor, but only for one breath. A perfume that is gone once it enters my lungs. Someone was there before me, and left no other messages.
Sometimes, when I walk the bike path, the trees bend inward towards me.
The trees are silent; unable to speak except through their leanings and the musical rustle of their leaves.
Sometimes, I hear the geese flying overhead at twilight. They talk in human voices.
The sky turns dark without warning.