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....
