Oh my God the geese!
Standing in my yard
while wave after wave of them
fly over the roof of the house
from the NW to the SE.
Each wave ebbs and flows,
the geese almost exactly the same distance apart
the V is straight and they fly strong.
And the ruckus!
Talking and calling to one another.
As they meet in the big migration
they sound like
a gaggle of guys at the club,
or women catching up on the news across the fence.
You can hear the sergeant honk his orders,
his voice is deep.
A trailer squawking wait for me,
her voice screams.
They just keep coming
like the tireless waves against the shores
breaking up occasionally,
their order broken,
Sensing; ever slowly; the geese find the scent,
catching the current that holds primal instincts unlearned
spiriting them back into shape.
Now stragglers of two;
A quiet –
Then a new wave, large enough to surf.
How powerful the swoop of free spirits
beats into my awareness of self.
Spring, motivation, renewal, time to flourish, this beautiful wild earth.
The last waves,
are they the last waves,
pressing to reach the unseen place of ancient memories.