Is there a poem
Hiding in one of my
Books
Or
Is this a memory
Of hearing
Books
Or
Is this a memory
Of hearing
In the distance
Sounds
The Wild Geese
Create migrating
To their winter
Home
Sounds
The Wild Geese
Create migrating
To their winter
Home
I Love them
Waited
Every fall
To see them
Waited
To hear their
Voices
Waited
On the wooden
Deck
Outside my bedroom
For them to arrive
With their familiar
Honking
As I stood
Gazing
My head raised to the
Sky
My eyes following them
As they flew
One by one
In a straight line
Over the Eucalyptus
The Mountain Ash
Away away
From my sight
I would call to
Them
Bless you Bless you
Be safe on your
Way
Wild Geese
Safe on your
Way
While their honking
Voices
Grew fainter fainter
Until the silence of the
Day
Wrapped around me
Again