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Snow Geese 

   run to see beyond the trees
five hundred or so
snow geese in their
vees -
telling travelers' tales to the
island below.

and here, down here,
a thousand robins sing
their nest-building song -
so soon?
and the long-tailed ducks?
will they leave tonight?
on the fifth of march
we saw eight, maybe more,
and close to shore
not a hundred yards from our
mail box -
we watched them dive
while i held a
drugstore flyer in
my hands -
what could be more ordinary?
and tonight, i do believe
they plan to leave.
when they return
where will we be?

the wind races through
the tops of the trees –
the sky flat grey and
the temperature
is falling
again with the light.
salmonberries are blooming and the
alders' red catkins cast a warm
burnished glow -
the curve
of the grass covered trail
against the snowberries –
each perfect thing -
each loving old thing -
can I wear them?
as a garland or
wreath, boughs of
dougfir and spent deer bones?
or graft fallen limbs
to the tips of my fingers and
wave my hands through
the night in the warm
storm sky
grazing the snow geese
as they fly?

monte merrick

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Monte Merrick

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