Geese at Night

GEESE AT NIGHT

Late, I lie awake,
the darkness outside thick
with wet snow. It is early
October. Beneath the night,
leaves wear autumn.
Branches bow,
as if to welcome winter,
or surrender to it, bending
in the weakness that comes
before winter’s short days
pare them down
to stoic strength.

Flakes slap against glass.
The heating register creaks,
unused to working.
Beside me, my wife
breathes a rhythm
for the night to keep time.
I cannot sleep,
worrying about things I have chosen
or not chosen that fill my life.

Behind all this,
faint but there,
for I pause to be sure,
are geese, calling
to maintain formation in the dark.
They fly through the weight of snow
and night, heading for green
grass and open water.
The geese have few concerns:
stay together,
take turns leading,
rest when necessary.
Winter appears early but weather
does not hinder their mission.
They do what it takes
to arrive at a place with no ice.

And later, when the season turns,
when the equinox has filled
its belly and begins to fill
their wings, they will know
to rise, to spell long Vees
in shortening nights
and to head north
to a place where trees stand
proud with new leaves
and wind on water
blows a rhythm
for the night to keep time.