Geese flap their wings in time
With the pulse of autumn.
The setting sun casts itself up one last time,
Stroking the bellies of these quiet,
Distant birds in a fleeting moment.
I feel that touch, too,
And I imagine it as a kind of love.
It is a farewell I have watched a thousand times,
Always confident I will watch it a thousand more.
This time, I watch as I lie on a blanket in grass
Alongside the river where
I have watched these geese feed
On warmer days.
They mark time for me in heaven and on earth.
I feel the pulse of their movement
Throbbing in my own veins
And I say good-bye. I sleep well.
I know I will hear them return.
I will be here. I will not be alone.

One Single Impression