geese flying-window

first their concerted honks—
first unseen, then
as apparitions they rise
from foliage at the foot of the hill
framed in a window sash
they rise to the cackles of crows
already at breakfast in our yard
arrayed upon green, black notes
of an almost endless chord,
ostinato of the articulated
sounds of vees that appear overhead,
levitating geese in glass,
all of a boundless chord drawn-out,
a day in the life
                        ….. they vanish
over the window top

truck tires hum on tar
dopplering down around a bend
played out

a last crow lifts off
speaking a 
                        ….. last word

Jim Culleny