snow geese

o run to see beyond the trees
five hundred
or so
snow geese in their
vees -
telling travelers' tales to the
island below.
and here, down here,
a thousand robins sing
their nest-building song -
so soon?

the wind races through
the tops of the trees –
the sky flat grey and
the temperature
is falling
again with the light.
salmonberries beginning to bloom and the
alders' red catkins cast a warm
burnished glow, - the curve
of the grass covered trail –
each perfect thing -
each loving old thing -
can i wear, as a garland or
wreath, boughs of
dougfir
and spent deer bones?
or graft fallen limbs
to the tips of my fingers and
wave my hands through
the night in the warm
storm sky
grazing the snow geese
as they fly?

7 march 2007 6pm