Wild ducks and grasses mingle so deeply this morn I saw them beneath the blackish red sunny dawn The sun rises behind the clouds, to cover it's face And cry dip dip dip, now and then - this time anytime Aroma has blown on the air, the message is floating Everywhere: Night-birds --street-girls, drunk Romeos go back home O old beggar mom, don't depart your dome and Starve today, Let your breast-feeding baby quite in fasting by red eyes, Pray rain, rain, rain, and raining today day and night Drops on things anywhere, on wild geese, and on grass
The geese Form a procession in their northern formal dress. Single file they march down The hill Coming from deep out of the tree line and through A courtyard of grass and sedge, Their solemn walk An act of unison metered by webbed feet. And an overdone elegance.
At shore of the pond They prostrate themselves, Head bowed to the water. As if encountering an old priestess among the church pews. Solemnly they shake their Necks like human hands- A time honored ritual. Then, an unknown cue, Their heads turn up to the blue sky launching themselves Into the water splash-less, like Floating clouds blown on The breeze. Now moving independently, leaving ripple paths across the pond. The ritual has ended.
A vision of fairy life along a rural woods with a pond.
The geese are a honking loose thread across the sky. I can hear them in my wicker chair like they're sitting right next to me and I think their voices carry at least as far above as down below. So loud. The sound of changing seasons on the wing. You'd think a goose-whisper would be enough to keep their conversation going, but no. I need to hear them in my wicker chair too, apparently. I kinda like that. Maybe they are talking to me. Maybe their sounds are like street-songs for strangers, or God-praise, or apple pie cooling on a neighbor's window. Maybe they made something really pretty in their hearts, and it's so big they can't keep it down their noodle-necks anymore. And so they're singing it out, for the whole world to see, like a big grin, and it's just perfect that I hear it in my wicker chair, it makes it even better, and that's why they're so loud. It could be.