You
don't expect on a Great Basin drive to find lakes filled with Snow
Geese. Mile after mile of open space, yes, but not 1000's of geese
floating as rafts. Alkali and sand give way to irrigated fields strung
as beads of water tucked in as jewels in a belt safe from intrusion
protected by miles of desert. Collected on them are birds content to sit
and rest a spell on their forward march to the Arctic. Instinctual
navigation has led them to this precise dot for centuries. As if a
mirage rising and falling in spectacular white, black-tipped wonders
drift in rhythmically, pulsing clouds, constantly calling reassurance. I
sat; I watched, listened caught up in thought and feeling a thin thread
tracing back to antiquity. I have been here before. As if written in my
DNA, it penetrates my soul. We are one - interconnected and intertwined
- time and space are gone. I follow the ragged line of geese into the
air and I am carried with them.
I See The Flock Breathe
What are they saying?
As the spiraling calls lift from the flock,
they seem to breathe as one,
softly rising and falling.
The pulse taken, a spike of birds flies up
and circles above for a time...
then gently settles back to
quiet, rest, unmoving.
Waves of sound soften and then intensify,
lulling me into security...
and suddenly caught off guard
by jarring sirens as they take flight.
Sparkling as glitter, the sun
catches each angled wing,
swirling above the water
then drifting down to rest.
I think that I shall never know
what this transcending voice intones,
but I shall be ever grateful to experience
their sonorous chanting
that strikes a harmonious chord deep within me.
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