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

Under wing.

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.