Weary Travelers

I saw a thousand geese fly by. From north to south, They marked the sky. Thrown off their course by winter storm, On hapless and drifting route. An endless, massive flock Spanned my view in jagged form. The fleet looked to be give-out. And hundreds trailed behind the lead In long, lop-sided, wavering vies. Tired yearlings wobbled within the rears, Beating their wings with mindless fear. I watched for some to land my pond, To sift the mire through reed and frond, But each bird flew with forward breast, Deprived of strength and pounding chest.