I was out for my daily walk when I saw those geese rising ... stood watching them ... don't remember if I sat at the next bus stop to put my reactions on paper, or waited till I got home ... but I had a poem in the making, right there on that street.
The poem:
HEADING SOUTH
Just beyond the trees
giving up their gaudy
leaves of autumn, five geese
rise slowly, dark against
a mottled sky, heading
generally southward,
seeking those highways
that the wild geese take,
while I stand rooted
where chance has put me.
I shall think of them,
wishing vaguely that I had
their gift of flight
as I ride out the storms
of winter, waiting to hear
their honking again,
telling me the season
is breaking, melting into
spring, skein of renewal
linking those who can fly,
those who can only wish.
©
1997(originally published in Capper's)
Today's word:
renewalAfterthoughts ... in response to your comments:
Thank you, Helen, for stopping by again ... and leaving a comment. I had much the same experience of hearing/seeing the geese when I was a youngster ... witnessing their "bringing spring" when they flew north ... and giving us fair warning that winter was coming, when they headed the other way. Oh, and in my excitement at finding your comment, I hadn't even noticed the spelling of geese. Best wishes.
2 comments:
The thoughts, pictures, and especially, the wording (not a very poetic comment) are wonderful. When we moved into town and I was a little girl, we'd hear the honks from the gueese and we'd all run out and look up and see their path--and as you indicated...wish I could join them. It was such a thrill, and good education from my parents. So is this poem. Helen
If I could go back to my comment I'd spell "geese" right.
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