Wild Goose Fancy

First you hear the call, the cry, no, the cacophony.

It is the trumpet of triumphed recovery from near extinction

That edges up to the sound of a world’s destruction.

How do you turn away? How do you stand against such noise?

Over the hill they come, first in vanguard,

Then canopy of multiple V’s,

Darkening, darkening and it is an awesome sight

And a frightful fright

When the wild goose take flight.

I walk into the woods alone, into the silence of the trees.

The path is rough with ice-encrusted snow, the going slow,

And far behind the circling cloud, the noisome crowd

Is drifting off in searching groups,

Scouting out the water flows beneath our frozen earth.

But I see this no more or hear that roar,

They are there and I am here on my own mission

Finding my own solitude, I no longer listen

To the wild goose take flight.

That pale winter ghost has stolen everything,

Coated it with his seal and slippery trails

Are teasing, taunting my every caution step.

Sister wind blows love songs in my ear

That freeze my heart and soul to the bone.

How dare you, sir, steal into my home

And poke about with your icicle thumb

To gray my days and turn them numb.

When the wild goose take flight.

There is beauty everywhere and death.

All the color has been drained away

From tree or cloud or lake or field.

To fall is lost and you’d shiver there

Until the gracious sleep eased the pain

And lifted you upon its frigid wing

Into the last cold dark night,

On the last wild goose flight.

Photo: Over 300 Wild Geese in flight over Alapocas Run State Park. Taken by the author