SLEEPY GEESE
By Richard L. Provencher
Sun, 16 Sep 2018
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4 comments
descend in waves of feathers
their wings slowing a great sweep
from distant spaces.
Yesterday was tiresome
plowing through buffeting wings
but today they flew over hills
until a lake
allowed them rest and drink.
Their tiredness cannot
be measured in miles of flight
unabated honking
telling a story of the rush.
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1 User voted this as great feedback
I love to hear the honking
I love to hear the honking overhead, even if it is just the group moving from one lake to another locally. You draw a picture of those sweeping waves of feathers descending. Rhiannon
(by the way did you mean buffeting wings or buffeting winds?)
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Just loved your poem Richard,
Permalink Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Just loved your poem Richard,
could see it as a painting in words.
Jenny.
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