Monday, November 05, 2018

When the Geese Go

Written on a blue paper sky,
late autumn sentences spelled out with twigs,
punctuated by small, black birds.

A sketch of leafless trees,
colored pencil straight,
lined up in shades of gray and brown.

Tales of a winter hillside,
an ice-skimmed pond,
geese listening for their cue

to close the book,
leaving silence and snow