Wait For Me
Acres over my head
gliding across the grey winter sky
the lone cry of a Canadian goose
pierces an arrow of melancholy
into my heart.
what were you doing
when your flock took off without you?
Captured by your image in the pond
you floated across as a group?
Or perhaps you were off in a field of
never ending grass, grazing away
as your brothers and sisters
ran the runway of the plains
up into the air.
And now what?
Plaintively crying out
hoping your voice will boomerang forward
and the tip of an arrow of geese
will come flying towards you
drawing you back into the fold
of your companions.
I toss up a prayer
that that is so.