The sky looms overhead in
heavy, slate grey
Bordering autumn with a
blanket of calm.
Lines drawn now,
separating light azure days of summer,
From grave and serious
moments inherit in the dying of the leaves.
Groups of geese fly in
roundups overhead, practicing
Perfecting their
formations for the journey ahead
Their excitement feeds
the air with expectation…
There is a waiting mood
blowing in the breeze.
I wait as well, with a
wintry acceptance while my car
Has her yearly oiling, an
oil change and smooth tires
Replaced with big,
gripping, safe ones, prepared
For the snow gusts, the
ice storms, and winds to come.
The garage sits in a
matching grey décor, melding
With the sky, quiet in
its reflective stance, molding
Itself into landscape,
cold, dreary, but necessary
“Must get the job done;
it is time; let’s be ready.”
The geese are shifting, ever
moving, rising to the heavens
Tonight they are out in
droves, all the leaves are gone
The big birds land in the
freshly plowed fields, dive-bombing
Showing off, loving their
prowess, eager to be on their way.
I always feel kind of
left behind… I am left to weather the storms
Figuratively and in
reality, my car gears up like the geese on hefty tires
The geese rise once more
from the fields, forming their military lines
Each gets on their way,
functioning as they must, they are gettin’ ready!
My car engine hums, the
tires crunch on frosty gravel, my fingers are cold on the wheel
The hind geese honk with
encouragement to their forerunners, calling “All aboard!”
cailin raine
