Thanksgiving, so much as a note to keep in mind; for without its cage, what happiness would the bird feel when it flies away. Another tiny drop of rain trickled. Bag still on his shoulders, he watched the boat drift away. How far down the river would it go? As far as it could stand itself.

She put on her hat and walked out into the snow. The trails must have stretched too far out by then to lay a grip. A tiny drop of tear trickled down…of losing her to herself, or the stillness that the night’s turmoil gifted, touched her eyes..It didn’t matter. The ends wouldn’t meet. But how far down the road would she go? As far she could stand herself..and perhaps another lonely wanderer in the woods would offer a hand.

A cool gush of wind was closing in. The dancing glow on the white had begun to retire.