Loosened from the mud, I find myself floating in a world of possibility.

So can you.

geese, peanuts and things unknowable.

Geese honk back in the wetland
sunset lighting up their arrival
      in twos and fours, sometimes more.
Sitting in the woods
I can hear the wind coming from a distance
     through the treetops
     the roar like one of the great lakes.
A pair of owls hoot to each other
I look to the woodpile and wish I could chop.

Chipmunks jump through the fallen leaves
sounding like the footsteps of bear

or deer
to be less dramatic about it all.

The woods are a source of many unidentified sounds
even after ten years of listening.
It still seems a bit frightening to the city ear.
The geese begin again
this time sounding like a pack of fox
but eventually I hear the distinction
     foolish me, city me
I am listening for a repeat of that night a predator found the
    geese.  Foxes, maybe wolves.
That was cacophony at its finest.

I squat to pee
look up to see the trees naked, bare
no doubt that the season is about the change.

Shedding their leaves
tossing them aimlessly down to the ground
Baring the wisdom of toddlers

I want to relinquish the city full of judgement
He noshes on peanuts like an 
      animated chipmunk
I choose to chew away the disgrace of it all.
He is immune to the pain.

12:23 the owls have returned

Last night was the arrival.
Tonight the geese departed with the sunset.
They arrived in twos and fours and sometimes more.
They departed with a V-shaped
     flight.  there were at least 10,
     maybe 15 groups in all.
Back there.  Northwest of the property.
It is a goose rendezvous, my friends.
I wonder.
How do they choose their groups?
     is it first come first served?
do they seek the previous season's companions for the journey south?
do they seek out new friends each year?
do they feel the same feeling of
     dread that humans feel when
     knowing the damned obnoxious
     goose is going to be in the southbound
     flock again?
do they rush to arrive early in hopes of joining 
     the successful? 
     the loudest honkers?
     the most beautiful feathers?

The woods are a constant source of
     the unknown, unknowable and unidentified.


  1. What a lovely note. It was full of grace and I feel blessed to read. :)

    By the way, geese stick to their family groups or perhaps join the one their mate is in.

  2. I'm so glad to see you words this morning. I'm going to try something new here so, as always, it so wonderful to have your support, WK!

    Thanks for the tip on geese family groups. I figured there was some rhyme and reason, but it was fun to speculate in terms of human emotions.

    Much love,


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