Canadas cover a nearby field, those fair winged pilgrims on their autumnal voyage--
Snaky necks black
Raised among cornshocks
Be-In of clans,
Moving coverlet,
Mulched beige field
Beneath startling blue,
Walking, chatting, resting.
Some fly in,
Wings bowed as they
Dump speed for landing.
Some fly out,
On their way to
Lost Pangea.
As it is,
So it was.
Faithful through eons,
Through cataclysms
Of fire,
Of frost
And lately our slaughter,
Hearing, beyond
Our stunted senses,
The Summons--
Magnetic,
Earth Born--
Oh Brave Children
Of Archeopterix.
I love honkers, Juliet, and you honor them beautifully in these lines - don't see them very much down Texas way. When a 'V' of them flies over, I am humbled by their grace in the skies. Well done.
Juliet,
The images come at me in waves thanks to the feeling underlying a splendid technique, your reverence and respect evident...and those last lines transcendant, eternal, opulent. Yes!
A lovely tribute to the Canada Goose, Juliet. Sadly, they have become a pest around here; they do not leave but stay all year. Your poem reminds me of my childhood on the northern prairies of Alberta (Canada) when the geese heralded spring and autumn. Thank you. Love and best wishes,
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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GOD BLESS
Tony Nerone
fee
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Be always safe,
Karen
The images come at me in waves thanks to the feeling underlying a splendid technique, your reverence and respect evident...and those last lines transcendant, eternal, opulent. Yes!
John
I love that mystery, and this.
John
Regis