Whoosh of wings



Whoosh of Wings

The winter air, cold, dense

Penetrating to the bones

Conveys with rising crescendo

A symphonic skein of geese

Trumpeting beyond

Barren trees, shivering, huddled still.

Whirling overhead in v-formation

I hear the whoosh of wings

Cutting air, propelling sleek

Down-covered craft

To an uncertain destination.

The honking dies off, fades

Crystalline silence returns

Its rightful place restored

As if never disturbed

Clove twain by anserine arms

Fleeting sunward.

Original poetry by Mike Nettles, West Columbia, SC December 2011


photos by Goosesaver/facebook

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