It descended hard and hot -
must have been a rookie,
flaps oscillating mightily
correcting overcorrections,
undercarriage lowered and high angled
wings up and wide
spread out for maximum deceleration.
If there had been a computer on-board
it would have been repeating:
"too low - too low,
terrain-pull-up, terrain pull-up!"
but
there was just a solo goose brain at the controls,
and landing on ice in low visibility is always tricky
even for professional flyers.
It came in fast,
no chance of aborting the landing now,
no time for last moment adjustments,
webs touching down, then lifting up
as the impact jolted it airwards again,
Touch-down, yawing badly,
wings now beating the air wildly,
somehow
the bird keeps a shaky balance
as it slews and skids to a rocking half.
The goose immediately
starts preening and shaking-out its tail feathers
as if to say:
"nothing to see here."
The other geese in that same flight
honking loudly,
hard to say if they were cheering
or jeering.
The railroad tracks pass close to streets
Where residents reside
And from the train, I gazed at views
The windows did provide.
Suburban homes soon segued
Into urban tracks of land
Where population density
Has gained the upper hand.
For every city tree we passed
Had slews of plastic bags
Embedded in its branches
Like a motley mass of flags.
Such a sad display of ugliness,
This scourge of city blight
Really opened up my eyes to
This environmental plight.
I’d gladly pay the nickel tax
To staunch the bag use flow,
But what I wonder is why people
Let the darn things go.
What is it today?
Slews of pleas for more dollars.
Poor—always with us.
SJGNAL EVENT BETWEEN MAN AND WOMAN
The eyes have it
As the trolley slews past the bread display
At first glance it may be accidental
Testing it at the delicatessen
Inconclusive but cautiously implying
Trying again in the frozen section
Melting eyes again, as hoped for
Now for the checkout wait
Wait while the change is registered
There the final gaze must be long
It must belong to me alone.
When the world succumbs to the kiss of cold
and a numbing gale is a breath away,
on her knees she weeps; for the truth be told,
there will be soft light on the hills today.
Cool clouds begin to form her crown.
Wool winds careen with sovereignty.
Small specks of ivory dive down,
whilst little shining gems fall free.
In a blur, the sun disappears from sight
and vanilla-wisps soar in wintry slews;
like the stippled sheet of a moonlit night,
they will blanket all of the floating blue.
Blind blight to those who trek through hail;
dove-down has never been so fierce.
Enveloped in an iced jewel jail,
the frigid shards of North Pole pierce.
To the grave the blooms and the saplings go;
they retreat with haste from the chilling sleet.
And the terra scorns at the silent snow,
for she knows his work isn't yet complete.
Frost fire falls from a heart in pain...
when the mournful sky cries white rain.
Slipping and sliding along
Downhill days of later life
Rushing headlong madly
With nought to do I think of you
Keeping busy haphazardly sadly
Frantic antics slowed reactions
Thoughts awry with flustered bluster
Like swarm of bees in rumble cluster
Piling days of constant wrath
In aggregating piles
Neath slews of good intentions
And aggravating smiles
Stocks and stacks of special moments
Crammed in black holes of ire
Frustrations out in flashing torments
Of all consuming fire
Swimming through this world of red
I stumble up the stair to bed
To dream again of us