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Geese
Their assembly stopped me.
Snow geese, occupying the flooded soybean field,
and
Restless and noisy, holding me with their
numbers and their beauty.
I had no choice but to stop, and
Through the camera’s lens saw how vast was their
flock,
How the flock was itself a living being,
How the flock was bound by a deep inner accord.
Snow geese come south.
They assemble in great flocks upon these flooded
soybean fields, and
With a deep inner accord,
Restless and noisy,
They stop me on my way.
But they are not only restless and noisy.
At an unheard and unseen signal
An entire phalanx takes flight, and
Leaving their cousins’ ground,
Moving in unison against the morning sky,
Display how many, indeed, they are.
They are.
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