Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
don-bouchardPoems
A grey goose above me Calls strident-high, Alone and looking down, While I walk toward the lake, Looking up to find His silhouette against gray sky. We're miles from town On a middling winter day, Shortest hours of light Within the year. We two are lonely here. Skies gray promise Neither rain nor snow; A warming wind is blowing; Perhaps the silver skiff Will melt again, And let the grey flier in. Where are his loved ones? I'd like to know; And why he flies alone, Scanning from his skimming height, And yet I think I know. I used to hunt his kind, To lie in wait beneath a blind, And rise to meet Descending flocks, Wings set, Until I knew The goose I'd brought To ground And the goose above Remained inseparable, One mate for life, Death do them part, And after, live alone. A chill is setting in tonight, And I am heading home; A fire and my wife waiting. Some comfort as the evening ends I hope the grey one finds, In the company of friends... I'd see he weren't alone, If I could make amends.
0
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
Short Days; Gray Skies
A grey goose above me Calls strident-high, Alone and looking down, While I walk toward the lake, Looking up to find His silhouette against gray sky. We're miles from town On a middling winter day, Shortest hours of light Within the year. We two are lonely here. Skies gray promise Neither rain nor snow; A warming wind is blowing; Perhaps the silver skiff Will melt again, And let the grey flier in. Where are his loved ones? I'd like to know; And why he flies alone, Scanning from his skimming height, And yet I think I know. I used to hunt his kind, To lie in wait beneath a blind, And rise to meet Descending flocks, Wings set, Until I knew The goose I'd brought To ground And the goose above Remained inseparable, One mate for life, Death do them part, And after, live alone. A chill is setting in tonight, And I am heading home; A fire and my wife waiting. Some comfort as the evening ends I hope the grey one finds, In the company of friends... I'd see he weren't alone, If I could make amends.
Melancholy memories and a gray goose against a gray sky on the shortest day of the year, 2015....
#life#mate#goose#gray#amends
don-bouchard
Written by
don-bouchard
66/M/American
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem