geese

A V of geese, calling out,

crossed the cloud-rippled sky,

and I, below, watched them go,

wishing I could fly.

I’d go west too but visit

every garden on the way

to where the sunset colors glow

and twilight cools the day.

But this is now and that is dream.

I’ve been west, and I know

that here is where life hums to me;

it’s where my gardens grow.

The hug-warm sun sets here as well

and paints the twilight sky.

Still, I look up and fill with dreams

when flocks of geese fly by.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

The geese come flying low this morning,

two of them skimming the treetops,

their crawnky call timed with the pulse of

wingbeats:

“Look, look!

Here, here!

Now, now!”

And I do.

Gray-white bellies buoyed by the breeze,

wide wings flapping,

long dark necks stretched out straight,

they’re the picture of persistence,

of determination,

of certainty.

They know where they’re going—

I’m guessing the zoo,

which is not so far if you’re airborne.

They will be guests

at a lucky gathering of geese on the lawn.

They’ll flock and strut and lunch

and gather goose gossip

and rise as a group at sunset,

free to thread their own way

back through the sky

to where they began,

calling,

“Look, look!

Here, here!

Now, now!”

And gone.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – looking up:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

Wishing I Could Fly

The Geese Come Flying Low