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
You have such an achingly lovely way of rendering painful images. And that you can find a way to get such complex emotional realities into single, supple sentences is a marvel to me. This is such a simple poem, and yet quite profound. Well done, dear friend, well done.