The geese know the way
beyond the pond’s gaze
onto paths which cannot contain them
to stay within its bounds.
In formation they travel
stopping traffic in their wake;
Mom in front, goslings next,
and dad takes up the rear.
We all wait.
Then, wait longer.
No horns blare.
We have learned to live in peace
at the speed of geese,
patient with one another
in this small space,
in this neighborhood of grace.
annarino writes 