Stephe Watson Poet Free verse

Notes About The Poem

é, from a series

Drywater

I’m in sandals.
    Mid-morning.
Thoughts of Midgard
and Northmen.
And sturdystock;
Noresemen.

    I’m sweeping snow.
In the morning sun.
I guessed it’d be easier
to sweep than cut in
at the heels and lift.
And turn.
And toss.
Then cut in again.
    I sweep.

Some geese call out from the 
hazy near-beyond.
    Returnéd from
their night of snow.
From wherever they ever go.

And extend their webbed feet,
so made for water.
So smooth.
So broad.
So slick.
And find
        ...well...
they do find water.

A flash-frozen pond.
    A crackening rather than a splashering.
I wonder if they’d notice.
I wonder when they know.

That snow means ice.
And if they entertain a 
moment’s surprise.
At finding dry feet.
And stiff-plane pond.

    I sweep the snow
The birds skate and wait.
    For sun to lower them.
    Into the wet.
By a few more feet.

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Darlene De Beaulieu March 22, 2018 at 3:29 PM Hello Stephe, you painted a beautiful picture with your words.Have a nice evening my friend. Stephe Watson March 22, 2018 at 8:07 PM So very kind of you! Thank you. I thank you for you time, attention, and connection! Hugs.

Reason A. Poteet March 22, 2018 at 11:55 AM Novel thought, Stephe, enjoyed it. Catchy title and I was not disappointed with the results. Stephe Watson March 22, 2018 at 1:24 PM Thank you so very much. Truly. I am, somewhat surprisingly (to me, anyway) beginning a series of poetry-written-when-I-hear-the-geese-throughout-my-day.