On grain and earth, rain and air...

Geese don't give a fuck about the rain.

Gray morning skies dropping water down on the fresh and vibrant spring grass and he keeps on stomping his webbed feet down on the mucky ground picking away at the grass for the scraps of our waste and his morning meal.

Almost freezing out there and he still stomps on, nibbling and plucking, not giving two shits about the cold, cold rain sliding off his back or pooling between his wings. He's got a job to do and he's doing it well.

There's no flock or commune or gathering or gander, there's only him and his mission of getting his next meal, rain or no rain. He's got a purpose and he's sticking to it.

And the rain keeps coming down, all of us two legged abominations walking around, huddled under the cover of his father and his mother, their lives stuffed between our polyvinyl, keeping out the wind and the cold. They didn't give a fuck about the rain either.

I can see large spots of water pooling on his back and I think 'who cares about ducks?'. Little monogamous critters, always knowing which direction to flit off to if it gets to cold. The wind is stinging like a whip to the cheek today, but I don't see this goose flapping off to chase a warmer climate. Screw water off a duck's back. They hide in the rain.

This guy though, there's some determination in those eyes. Geese are evil bastards, but I can see why, being out in the rain since before the sun came up trying to fill his gullet on fries and bugs and worms and grasshoppers. But rest assured, he don't give a fuck about the rain.

If only we could take a page from his book.