Art Room - Visiting Patio Goose

I had my writing class today, my poetry class, and one of my fellow writers decided to read a prose piece instead of a poem. He read this incredibly moving essay, sometimes choked up in tears, about a hurt goose that somehow had gotten trapped on the visitng room patio.
It had been hungry and thirsty there for more than a week, because visitng is limited to only Saturday and Sunday. It was dying, it could not honk or cry anymore. The goose paced back and forth on the outside visiting patio. Through the huge chain-locked glass door and windows, the goose could see the visitors. Brown, black and white kids gather at the doors and windows trying to scoot bread, cookies, soda water and candy under the doors.
The wardens tell the parents of the children at the doors, if they do not stop trying to feed the goose, their visits will be terminated.
The children saw death in the goose's eyes, pacing and whimpers, as surely as they could see and feel sunsets, an ocean breeze and swaying of trees. The goose died on the visiting patio.

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