Fly Right
I can’t keep
keep my head away
from the brick wall
for very long before
another false start ends
with a thud thud thud
tearing at my sense
of well-being.
Frantic honking
draws my attention
away from my chair.
I go outside
to where a flock of geese
struggle
to get into the familiar
wedge formation. I understand
their flailing and feel
at one with them now,
comforted by their inability
to form a proper vee.
This makes me feel better
about the world, about
the end of the promise.
Winter approaches
with surety, with the
dedication of an eagle
perched on a bare branch,
surveying the landscape
for signs of life,
which he will capture
and eat for lunch.
Available here
poet james escher 