Every one on my mail route must have gone over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house for Thanksgiving weekend. As I walked along the deserted streets the sun hung low in the sky and the cold wind scattered the fallen leaves. I had to stop for a moment to watch a flock of geese, silhouetted against the sky, as they winged their way to a warmer clime. I was wishing I could fly away with them.
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