Heading South

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: renewal