POEMS/ Snow Geese at Bosque del Apache
Snow Geese at Bosque del Apache
Ten thousand sleeping snow geese,
huddled in silent mounds,
heads down and wings
tucked in against the cold,
lie frozen in the water,
hillocks of snowy feathers,
white with blue and black.
Beyond their countless shapes, gray sky,
hills looming dark, and all completely still
in clear and trembling air.
We watch a tinge of pink and yellow
wake the flock, whose murmured
morning honks begin to rise
in soft and clear crescendos,
horn players in an orchestra
finding their proper note, and
trying out their sounds.
We stand in quiet ranks nearby,
shivering our shifting feet,
and wait for endless moments
to see the geese fly out to feed,
until some sudden secret signal
that only they can see and hear,
explodes the flock together
bursting to the sky--
in clamorous cacophony
they fly row upon row
close above our heads,
filling the air with wings
and we become their rising,
our frozen bodies
pulsing with their warmth.
From All Roads Go Where They Will, 2010
Ten thousand sleeping snow geese,
huddled in silent mounds,
heads down and wings
tucked in against the cold,
lie frozen in the water,
hillocks of snowy feathers,
white with blue and black.
Beyond their countless shapes, gray sky,
hills looming dark, and all completely still
in clear and trembling air.
We watch a tinge of pink and yellow
wake the flock, whose murmured
morning honks begin to rise
in soft and clear crescendos,
horn players in an orchestra
finding their proper note, and
trying out their sounds.
We stand in quiet ranks nearby,
shivering our shifting feet,
and wait for endless moments
to see the geese fly out to feed,
until some sudden secret signal
that only they can see and hear,
explodes the flock together
bursting to the sky--
in clamorous cacophony
they fly row upon row
close above our heads,
filling the air with wings
and we become their rising,
our frozen bodies
pulsing with their warmth.
From All Roads Go Where They Will, 2010