[ A ]
Long ago， in Kentucky， I， a boy， stood
By a dirt road， in first dark， and heard
The great geese hoot northward.
I could not see them， there being no moon
And the stars sparse. I heard them.
I did not know what was happening in my heart.
It was the season before the elderberry blooms，
Therefore they were going north.
The sound was passing northward.
[ B ]
Tell me a story.
In this century， and moment， of mania，
Tell me a story.
Make it a story of great distances， and starlight.
The name of the story will be Time，
But you must not pronounce its name.
Tell me a story of deep delight.