Running with the Geese by Francisco Hernández

Art taken from Pinterest: Artist is unknown, but references the initials and date of “SJC 78”

Imposingly stands in time Cheam while,

From under a thin lay’r of frost morning

Whispers. Leafless trees, naked nests, mourning

Voices of old along the way knit, mile

After mile, the untold stories rustling

In the wind. Silently the Hope trickles

Into the woods; shhh! perching bald eagles

Sharpen their claws. I’m awed. Life’s a fledgling,

Forev’r hidden in the tender bosom

Of God. My heart tugs at each by-and-by;

I gasp for a breath of fresh air—a wry

Smile slips—ah! life-and-death in full blossom.

A fleet of geese arrows; above, the sky

Elates in canorous honks. But Heaven

Is silent, and dark distances raven

On heavy-lad’n souls that have gone awry

In the great migrations. Tenuous years lie

Under the skirts of the Fraser. One, two, …

How many more’n haste will that course pursue?

How many more with bleeding hearts will cry?

Under a thin layer of ice morning

Whispers. A forlorn goose, woe! lags behind

An aborning autumn. It numbs my mind.

Ay me! a life-time—an hour’s running.


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