Six lines on an early September front porch, for maple, bird and twilight
The maples are still green. I can hear the Canada geese
Sloughing below vision. Noisy in the west, where clouds break
Against the invisible shoreline of the livable world.
Their calls drift east, first in a foam of chaos then spreading
Like a wave disperses, one voice eddying out, diminishing
Then rising again, with a single repeated wish, good luck, good luck.
THAT is a wonderful poem.
Thank you, E.
“Against the invisible shoreline of the livable world.” Great play off “invisible” and “livable.” And Canada geese really sound like they say “good luck”!
So true. They do!