canadian geese honking overhead
                     ravi shankar in my head
                               pandora's box

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.

geese                                                                soar
    as if                                                        they
         have                                          nothing
              to wor                       ry  about
                      they                  just
                          fly              in
                            the     shape
                                of  a
                                  V

Looking at the world with new eyes,
today, when I left my home,
I saw a group of geese, flying
in unbelievable symmetry,
with tremendous grace,

My eyes were free of their dirt,
they were clean and beautiful,
and had the capacity to love
whoever they set themselves upon.
And maybe, I was gifted this scene
by god, for the love in my eyes...


© Manan sheel.

I have not always been good.
I have been punished for the smallest mistake
and shown more forgiveness than I deserve.
I have been softer and more vulnerable
than I have been in a very long time
and had my heart ripped out because of it.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the purest water trickles
from a Highland stream and into a tap, far away,
and where I am not.
You are right; I am lonely.
It enfolds me like a cloak, billowing in the wind.
Meanwhile the wild geese are beginning to fly south
and I must head for the north.
When we pass each other, in our flight,
I will smile and nod to them on their way.
They have all that they need
and I am still searching.

Golden autumn,
Harmonious autum,
Delicious autumn,
Beautiful autumn,
Graceful autumn.
Colourful autumn leaves fall,
Red, green,brown and gold,
In showers ,
Over little flowers,
A carpet hue,
Moistened by  misty dew.
Unmistakable autumn sounds,
Do their rounds,
Crisp leaves along the street,
Rustle beneath the feet.
A gaggle of migrating geese,
Flock the lustrous sky in bliss.