On Thanksgiving Eve
 
the last Canada geese flee
 
to a warmer place.

 
 
 

O my lifelong friend,
 
it is hard to say goodbye—
 
listen, the geese fly!

 
 
 

Honking as they pass,
 
geese from six days north of here
 
head to Mexico.

 
 
 

Labor Day weekend—
 
we spot the first skein of geese
 
tangled in the clouds.

 
 
 

Geese in the flyway,
 
you cross a thousand rivers,
 
while I cross but one.

 
 
 

Geese in the flyway,
 
how many days till you reach
 
your spring feeding grounds?

Flyway

 
 
 

Early December—
 
the flyway fills with more geese
 
than a child can count.

Geese

 
 
 

Three Suchovy geese
 
paddle round and round the pond—
 
autumn afternoon.

Breath

 
 
 

Geese in the flyway,
 
stir the garden with your breath!
 
Let the new corn come!

Refugees

 
 
 

Fleeing in rowboats,
 
refugees look up to see
 
one thin skein of geese.