Once in awhile, on the eve of some tremendous cataclysm, birds will sing a most distinctive tune. I have witnessed this. One misty morning, I was walking beside a great lake in Switzerland (I would rather not name it), when I noticed that the birds were humming a most curious song. Taken aback, I cocked my ear to get a better hint at what they were saying.
The fog had rolled across the lake and encircled the shoreline, making visual perception very difficult. To compensate, ears perked up to the song-sounds emanating from these remarkable creatures. In an instant, just when I thought I was beginning to comprehend the message, the wind swept it away like so many dead leaves. The fog, then, quickly lifted and I found myself in brilliant sunshine. This saddened me, for the mist was trying to help me understand the music. I shook my fist at the sky and cursed the sun!
Apparently, the fog had brought the message to the birds and they were trying to relay it to me. I wish I had listened closer because, by the end of day, the birds had been taken away.
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