Where do we go from here?
like this morning, when the wild geese came squawking,
flapping their rusty hinges, and something about their trek
across the sky made me think about my life, the places
of brokenness, the places of sorrow, the places where grief
has strung me out to dry. And then the geese come calling,
the leader falling back when tired, another taking her place.
Hope is borne on wings. Look at the trees. They turn to gold
for a brief while, then lose it all each November.
Through the cold months, they stand, take the worst
weather has to offer. And still, they put out shy green leaves
come April, come May. The geese glide over the cornfields,
land on the pond with its sedges and reeds.
You do not have to be wise. Even a goose knows how to find
shelter, where the corn still lies in the stubble and dried stalks.
All we do is pass through here, the best way we can.
They stitch up the sky, and it is whole again.
4 comments:
How amazing! Beautiful!
Yep...that's the call I was talking about...
Hey there! I am so glad to see you blogging. I saw your comment yesterday on Kat's blog and tried to click through to here but it was taking a while to load so I thought maybe it was private and I was wasting my time. I'm running out to the Farmer's Market but I shall make time later to come catch up on all that is going on with you. I look forward to it. I hope all is well!
Hey back atcha Robbie. I'm so glad to hear from you, to be back in blog touch with you. And I'm jealous that you have an open Farmers' Market at this time of year! We have two on the outskirts of town, one open the first Saturday of the month, the other open the first Sunday of the month. All the rest are closed until spring. So, I guess next weekend will be when I'll go see what's on offer.
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