Standing on the back step
watching a flock of Canadas
fly up from the lake,
the lake we rarely think of
except when we see the
big geese flying low
the warm morning light reflecting
off their feathered flanks...
Dawn patrol searching
for a place to graze;
The lake is so close here
little more than a mile;
two, three minutes for the geese
and so much a factor in our lives,
it modifies our climate, provides
our water, guards our border,
washes away our filth
but we do not think of it.
It is just there.
Perhaps it is too natural,
too wild, too real;
In a controlling world
the lake is uncontrollable.
So we ignore it
Except on mornings when the
Lake dispatches a chevron or two
geese to scout the land and
call attention to the itself.