Snow Geese Flock
It's Always Like This
The geese took me down
then nibbled my edges off,
all of them on me
as if I was some rock
or pile of mud packing worms.
Off a ways, there's you
dancing without care
as if it's all the same thing
rain or shine, moon, sun
haloes of rainbows
and pots of wee folk spun gold.
Not a single strain
to separate us
this music of geese and dance
and twirling discord
but I've no more bread
for geese - and just words for you,
dancer in the day.
I'm far too smelly,
in need of a wash. Those geese
were not ready for
this no more bread shit.
April 1, 2014 2:55 PM
See Irene's Orange Is A Fruit
Aaaaaah! Did you ever read my "Marja-Leena's Goslings" 24.5.2013? Geese are lovely.
ReplyDeleteThe actual experience that sort of informs this poem was a happy time but my fingers got fairly slimy from goose spit.
Delete