Posted by: Thomas Drinkard | March 15, 2011

Another Spring Poem-“Seasons of Change”

Arrogance of a long, black neck
curving tall among the wild onions
the Canada goose stands guard.
Turns of his head are clear:
flashing the white splash
behind each suspicious eye.

Long, dusk-shadowed wings that know so many miles
tucked behind,
as a man’s clasped hands;
watching:
like a department store floorwalker.

He watches;
she, busily, practically
nibbles tender, green shoots
ignoring.

Sometime before dawn,
someone up early, or across the lake
probably heard the calls to assembly,
watched the twenty-two lift,
form a ragged wedge and turn for home
in the usual way-
and marked the changing of seasons.

Have these two mistaken the chill
of a late-march Alabama night
for the cool of their nesting grounds?

Having chosen to stay in this backwater
a little longer-
their path to the north will be quieter
without the clangor of the flock,
traveling their own track
making their own seasons of change.

TD

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