Wild Geese

As heralds sound honking horns
To the promise of March,
The threats of November...
Clockwork miraculous motion
The V formation's aerodynamic perfection
In constant correction
Gliding swiftly o'erhead
With coordinated pull (no call, no fame,
putting sculling crews to shame.)
Familiar honk-bark reminders
Of seasons slipping by
Leaving us earthbonded
As they pass.
We, beasts of no aerodynamic thrust,
Admire free easy grace, and
Admit to awakened wanderlust,
When heralds' honks
Sound in the sky.

-- Lisa da Cunha-Koski --