Published in Eye Flash Poetry
Skein
At night I hear them overhead,
the wild geese, voices
faint as breathing and I long
to mingle in their skein
lifted by their turbulence
arrowed by their knowledge
under the pure moon.
And I'd take my turn in slicing
the wind like a cheese wire,
trailing our collective
wisdom to the goal
of grey dawn marshes
more than half as far again
as if I flew alone.
With thanks to Manfred Antranias Zimmer (via Pixabay) for the photo.
At night I hear them overhead,
the wild geese, voices
faint as breathing and I long
to mingle in their skein
lifted by their turbulence
arrowed by their knowledge
under the pure moon.
And I'd take my turn in slicing
the wind like a cheese wire,
trailing our collective
wisdom to the goal
of grey dawn marshes
more than half as far again
as if I flew alone.
With thanks to Manfred Antranias Zimmer (via Pixabay) for the photo.
