Winter Wings

Mist seems to rise from the ground up to the cloudy sky on this cold, rainy winter day. Dampness cuts through the layers and penetrate the warmth of clothing. What is there to look up to?

The telltale honking of geese travel through the sky signaling their arrival and departure. I look up to them and graceful perseverance to reach their destination; answering a call born within them that is attuned to seasons.

Canada geese in V formation

Canada geese in V formation

I’m sharing this poem that fits the moment and this season of the geese.

    Whoosh of Wings
    By Mike Nettles

    The winter air, cold, dense
    Penetrating to the bones
    Conveys with rising crescendo
    A symphonic skein of geese
    Trumpeting beyond
    Barren trees, shivering, huddled still.
    Whirling overhead in v-formation
    I hear the whoosh of wings
    Cutting air, propelling sleek
    Down-covered craft
    To an uncertain destination.
    The honking dies off, fades
    Crystalline silence returns
    Its rightful place restored
    As if never disturbed
    Clove twain by anserine arms
    Fleeting sunward.

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