Blog
Poem written by Em Meuller, used with permission from the author
This year the Canada geese have come
to the field behind my house.
Through morning frost and wind
that drifts like a desert
they pull at the grass — old men in shul,
davening. They make no noise
huddled in a clump facing north
their backs to the muted sun.
Perhaps drawn by a new patch of
green one wanders a little away
and so slowly I hardly notice
the others follow
nibbling the earth as if unafraid.
When the dog comes barking from the left
they stretch their necks
unfolding like a prayer, their wings
insistent drums.