Geese (For My Father) Poem by Keith Parsons

Where do the geese go?
Flying over, they disappear
Looking over, I still can hear
Their fading calls are strong

Your angle is so beautiful
Trumpeting shouts of forward pain
Winward woes but still you fain
Your journey is not long

Soon you reach the other side
A pond or lake you rest for now
Away from North and to the South
How do you stand the cold?

Now rest your weary feathers
Huddle low and close your eyes
Crispy now so come inside
The trip is almost gone

Welcome warmer climes
Gently glide, you have arrived
Worry not, embrace the sky
Welcome, you are home