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The wild geese found a home here
They no longer had a fear
Geese had not known of a seal
On our water’s surface real
Mild winters of moderate temperature
Gave comfort to bird and those of fur.
The Canadian Honkers always owned the space
Ponds and lakes they held as their own place.
Why fly south to a distant port
When here was such a good fort?
Down, down dropped the thermometers to 24 below
Now all was an ice land, solid boundary deep and low.
Complaining while flying from one to another frozen top
The poor geese honked in a desperate way, nonstop.
We were accustomed to the flight of the goose
Over our house with only short calls soft and loose.
Today, after the thaw of the ponds were the geese complaining,
Or celebrating while they did gather together, none refraining
From loud, continuous chattering, great in volume, certainly different
From their usual, soft, contented call of former soft conversation bent?
Here a group, another to join them, and yet another,
While they noisily wanted to converse as they hover,
Instead of moving away toward a new pond, lake or productive goal,
They are now only interested in loud discussion of their recent traumatized roll.
Was it a conference of discussion of these new possibilities
And a declaration between them that this might be realities.
What will the future of the generations of our geese be?
Wild goose, will you forget winter of 2011 to still be free?
Or will you pick up, Mom, Dad, chicks and these
Fy south to avoid Oklahoma’s next year’s freeze?
They no longer had a fear
Geese had not known of a seal
On our water’s surface real
Mild winters of moderate temperature
Gave comfort to bird and those of fur.
The Canadian Honkers always owned the space
Ponds and lakes they held as their own place.
Why fly south to a distant port
When here was such a good fort?
Down, down dropped the thermometers to 24 below
Now all was an ice land, solid boundary deep and low.
Complaining while flying from one to another frozen top
The poor geese honked in a desperate way, nonstop.
We were accustomed to the flight of the goose
Over our house with only short calls soft and loose.
Today, after the thaw of the ponds were the geese complaining,
Or celebrating while they did gather together, none refraining
From loud, continuous chattering, great in volume, certainly different
From their usual, soft, contented call of former soft conversation bent?
Here a group, another to join them, and yet another,
While they noisily wanted to converse as they hover,
Instead of moving away toward a new pond, lake or productive goal,
They are now only interested in loud discussion of their recent traumatized roll.
Was it a conference of discussion of these new possibilities
And a declaration between them that this might be realities.
What will the future of the generations of our geese be?
Wild goose, will you forget winter of 2011 to still be free?
Or will you pick up, Mom, Dad, chicks and these
Fy south to avoid Oklahoma’s next year’s freeze?