I never cease to get a tingle on the back of my neck when I hear and see a skein (scots: flock) of geese fly overhead. It's a reminder that the seasons flow and this world continues to turn in all its majestic glory.
The seasons come, and go.
From misted shadows a call is heard
overhead and yet unseen
The pinkfooted geese high above
Fly in an ordered "V" shaped skein
They tell us of the winter to come
Announced by meloncholic call
The Harvesting's over, all is done
Waiting now for the snow to fall
Busy cackles on stubbled ground
Feeding on the grain that was missed
A reminder of dark days to come
Biting winds and rains persist
But then it comes the time to leave
A long journey home to make
Tumultuous flocks head towards the North
Leaving our Spring-time in their wake.
Poetry by Liam
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Written on 2019-05-28 at 13:28
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Sameen |
ken d williams |