Geese in a V - morning flight. Clear-eyed as a priest he sees this thing. Watches as it travels on towards the horizon, to what might be on the other side.
White houses on the hillside and a solitary star, still shining in the morning sky.
In the evening, in the cool of his room, the old man raised himself from his chair to see the rough clouds intersected by the lead diamonds of his window.
The geese are long gone.