passingeesemicircle

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Watching paired black geese
Flying in cold winter winds
Each as me, one love

The curious activity of men/women

makes me wonder precisely when

both will learn how to conjoin

with rabbits, geese, bull and lion.


Talking incessantly like birds,

roaring like lions. However absurd!

snapping like crocodiles

or habitually waiting in human files,


torturing like cats

water-boarding rats,

rolling like logs

snarling like dogs.


snorting like pigs

gobbling up figs

In everyone an animal lurks

whether saints or jerks!

Used to be half a dozen gray geese
in our town's central pond.
Used to strut out on the road
to attack trucks. Grills, tires. Pecking.
If you honked a car horn at them,
then you were speaking their language.
They'd hiss and cuss you out.
Folks in town got so fed up
with those geese that we did exactly that:
fed up on them.

So, stranger,  
welcome to our local tavern.
Let me buy you a drink.
Just don’t cuss anybody.

something told the wild geese it was time to go
as the soft breath of winter slowly fades away
beneath their wings it whispers "no more snow"

the chill of winter days has now gone
across mountain tops and fields of gold
the song of geese carries a distance tone

high up in the clear crystal blue skies
velvet clouds gives way to the sunshine
in V-shape form North wild geese flies

the geese call with the wind it's blown
check marking their flocks flight location
notifying relatives they're headed home

If she sang the way she looked,
you might expect Kate Smith
singing "God Save The Queen."
That *** Pistol'***** did not
come out, more voice pixieish,
a song unknown. Words were
bleary but delish were notes.

Complete meaning lost,
her elfin aria enchanted us. Indeed
there were whispers, "What is it
she's singing?" Then shushes
from those already spun
in her spell. We drifted into
her Mother Goose downy lullaby.

Fattened by unexpected
mellow mouthwatering coos,
her taken audience drank it in
and from beginning to end
were somehow morphed into
fuzzy waddling fans.

She looks so happy,
dancing with the prince.
Yet, somehow she's still sappy
about the way she convinced
him to dance the night away.

She looks at her feet and sings a lonely tune,
as the man dances with the lady under the moon.
Her heart is still broken,
leaving her body to go to Slocan.
May she die in peace,
with the sound of the geese
dancing with their sole mates

Expectation stands in Middlecreek’s waters, it toddles
In curious little hands, in Marylanders only up for the day,
And the snow geese hang like freed shapes of the sky;

This lake comes alive with fluttering wings,
The people around me keep their eyes close to the ground
While a new and weightless thing who walks in fickle grace
Stands in awe from every eye transfixed and terrified
Even the infant child, reborn like of us
Under what little sun 100,000 geese would allow
Through flight, into a world of charcoal.

Something happened in every eye. I don’t know what gods
Revealed themselves to us, or if we walked joy from scorn
But none of us felt human or pain only the swirl of the birds
Dancing inside one another like fire, like passion,
And all the words anyone tried to say were wrong.

Could I say my name anymore and still be right?
Could I call myself so separate when every heart there
Stuck to a single note, and every mouth struck dumb?
Could I speak beauty any longer, or had the geese
Renewed the tongue a fictive beast?
We never were what we thought we were
All but angels afraid of floating there.