Sky Paths

geese are arriving or going straight lines crisscross the sky a history of contrails in a blue honking yonder under a brightly birthed daylight eyesight cannot settle but dazzles upon fleeting wingtips geese continue to fly through gaps in time ghost planes still roar over unseen horizons a peddle bike and hunched rider whoosh past me a streetlamp sprints around my eyes whichever way I go the sky gets there before me only to redraw the shape of what has only just now - occurred