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Press On!


          Gusts of wind stopped all movement.
          And as it passed they surged undaunted
          Ever forward, ever towards the protective marshes.
          The purple gray sky moved coldly closer.
          Tonight there will be snow!
          Press on. Press on to Horicon!

          A lone tree top flight of a dozen or so
          Arced over our heads towards a marsh nearby.
          Thunder roared about us up into the sky.
          One soaring bird silently folded over and fell.
          Her mate faltered from the formation
          In a futile search and flew on
          Not knowing what we alone knew below.
          By the thousands and thousands and on and on,
          Press on. Press on to Horicon!

          One hundred thousand or more they say,
          Gathered in the marshes that day.
          On the eternal route to their winter homes
          They paused and fed before traveling again.
          Finding strength in the harshness they flew
          Undaunted, unyielding, surviving.
          These great geese sought refuge.
          In the cycle of life they knew what must be:
          Press on. Press on to Horicon!

by Glenn Hansen

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