In the middle of the lake where the geese gathered,

a lone gander rode the eddies in silence,

head tucked to wing in the sleep of no waking,

great black feet straight and still, reedy calls

of his mate unheard as she paced the snowy shore

knowing but unwilling to join the skein who made

their peace and paddled in widening arcs away

while the sun slipped it’s perch and sank, as at last did he.

© Dana Hughes 4.4.19