Monday, November 23, 2009

Indian Summer Day

Gaggle of geese, sleeping on the banks of the lake, heads tucked under wings.

One gander, neck stretched high, head swiveling, watching for predators.

Sunshine on our shoulders, warm as a hug.

Lake rippling in a light breeze.

Chicken salad, fresh whole-grain homemade bread, crisp lettuce, sweet onions for a picnic lunch.

Wick laughing as a goose eats stale bread from his hand.

Grandchildren running, climbing, laughing, shouting to one another.

Sated geese drifting away across the water like scattered bread crumbs.

Cast your bread upon the waters, and it will return to you ten-fold.

Mostly in the form of goose poop all over the grass.