The geese meandered up from the lake, over the little spillway, staying to the edge of the wetland forest, as far as they could from neighbor's property and still reach the seeds spilled from our birdfeeders.
It made me smile so to see the various broods of goslings and their parents, different sizes and ages, from almost fully grown to the very small, feeling safe in our yard.
They didn't stay long, just a few nibbles and off they went, back to the lake.
Reminded me of a poem I wrote a week or so ago...
*. *. *
Aggressively armed with a leaf-blower,
neighbor strides towards the gaggle of geese,
on his mission to keep nature beyond some
imagined boundary.
And I, just finishing a metta meditation,
melt further into the settee,
under arbor
where the squirrels partake of their
breakfast seeds so close to me
that I know who is a mommy or daddy.
A small goose family has survived the gauntlet,
who nibble the spilled safflower seeds
beside the sleeping garden gnome.
Baltimore oriole scolds and chatters
and then, a distinctive note sweetened with grape jelly.
Hummingbird sips nectar, flashing his ruby throat.
A yellow butterfly floats as a flower
onto a daisy in the St. Francis garden.
Spiderwebs are iridescently strung in the sunlight.
A big black ant on my ankle tickles
and yes, there goes the neighbor again
on his personal vendetta.
And me?
Well, I suppose I must rise
and do the laundry
or maybe it can wait?
Is that a pileated woodpecker
I hear?
And what is that sweet scent,
iris, peonies or honeysuckle?
mj 5.18.17 poem and photo
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