by Don Melcher           

Wild Geese In December

Snow lies deep on the hardscape of winter

Out of the North comes a lonely, austere cry 

The sky opens, the woods close

And the air is full of harsh dissonance

A skein of wild geese beats its intrepid way

Strung loose in wavering V formation

The delta leader surges in headlong flight

Stragglers strain to stay the Spartan course

Across a low, bleak monochrome of sky

They scrape the ceiling of laden clouds

Strident in a breathless quest for haste

Unerring in the faith of ancient pathways

Summer’s song is on the wing

Winter’s somber ode begun

Horizons close, the heart opens

A memory of that poignant passage 

-originally appeared in Free Verse