I laid my head on a pillow of snow
And felt myself melting into a pool of stillness.
So still, so still as the goose with beak tucked
Wind whipping, lifting feathers skyward.
I ascend in a gasp of calling, echoing
In the drum of my mind and heart.
Seemingly cavernous and unoccupied
By anything but this, this bird’s flight.
This soul of mine, somehow
All as one, all a-flight,
All so exhilarating, startled and free.
No aim, no compass, just just just flying
To land where the feet find themselves.
Black wet leaves smacking the water’s edge.
Buoyant bodied and floating on the rivers great dark depths.
I peer, I search
The murky rivers bottom of grasses and rocks and glistening fishes.
I recoil back to the cowl of nest, to the quieted down of rest
Where the geese huddle together calling out
To the damp, cold air, and the hush I hold.