The geese fly overhead, complain and call
and argue with each other. “Let’s go south!”
“We are!” “No, over that way, that’s our route!”
“No, stupid, that way, where the sun comes up!”
The vees split, circle, get nowhere. It doesn’t
matter. Soon they’ll splash down onto their home pond.
They think they ought to migrate but in fact
they’ve never left the county, not these geese,
their parents, or their parents’ parents. Day
by day they fly and honk to exercise their wings.