Nature Song

an autumn poem

They fly
Overhead
And I look up
To see their vee-shaped 
Migration to the south

Their honking, haunting calls
Pierce this modern life and
Tie me back and back and back 
To all the peoples who have come before

The geese keep flying their routes
The circular spiral of seasons turning,
Spinning with the globe as it whirls around the sun.
The autumns and springs always come ‘round.

This echoic memory embeds itself
Into my story.
Just as the song of spring peepers 
Transports me, suddenly, surprisingly, but happily
To a green holler in 
West Virginia

I lift my eyes to watch the geese
And smile 
I whisper on the inside,
“I’m glad I live in a place where 
Geese fly overhead.”