The coyote leapt
over the stubbled grass hedges
along the pond’s edge.
Silent single goose
stares silently in stillness
on the rocky ledge.
Each day the numbers
dwindle among empty nests
where Spring and geese mourn.
Tag Archives: geese
DUCK DUCK GOOSE
“What a goose I am!”
said a thousand times a day,
unlike ducks who stay
put.
While geese expand their range
from pond to pond
the ducks remain tucked away
in the same pond
all day long.
Ducks duck and cover
and seldom fly away.
A few strokes of the wings,
a few inches lifted above the fray,
A few feet they stray
until the threat fades.
The geese have no fear of flight.
They simply find
another pond on which to alight.
They are not bound by precedence.
They do not fear imprudence.
They have a key to ease such moves,
shared leadership and honking blares
to make the group totally aware
of dangers coming their way.
The ducks listen, too, yet stay.
While geese blithely find a better place.
Filed under POETRY
GEESE LESSONS
Feathers line the ponds’ paths.
The geese are in their molt.
They willingly pull feathers loose.
They do not fear their loss.
They know feathers are merely the surface
of who they are, a cultural statement,
not an identity.
They realize they remain geese
even if every feather is lost.
They poke no fun at their flock members.
They do not call them “geese in name only”.
They welcome the molt.
It comforts them to lose well-worn feathers.
Geese accept new feathers.
They know they can fly better
even if they look different.
They accept that different is better.
They are still members of the same flock.
They are still geese, just renewed and improved.
If only Americans could accept the molt
of culture and it well-worn surface.
If only Americans could rejoice in new feathers,
and realize they could fly better
and still be one flock.
We could learn lot from geese.
We could learn to fly in a vee formation
with everyone a leader sharing the point
and bringing the nation
into a new age with the strength and grace
to let go of the old feathers and old fears,
and fly free. If only we were like geese.
Filed under POETRY
THE GLEN
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.
Filed under POETRY
GOOSE WALK
Walking with the geese each day
affords a few moments to play.
Strolling along the nearby ponds,
thoughts open my mind as they may.
The gaggle has broken apart
as lovers seek their true heart.
Two-by-two they pair readily.
Even geese know courting requires privacy.
Across the pond they sail,
their wake leaving a lovers’ trail
on their way to domesticity.
Soon goslings will follow
where gander allows.
Later, though flight wings have grown
young geese are not on their own.
The gaggle regroups and once it has flown.
I shall walk the pond all alone.
Filed under POLITICS
annarino writes 