The Rule of Geese

When the geese pass overhead
you spend a long time staring
at three stragglers, dashed out
like an ellipsis of absent sound.

When our eyes meet the same trio
you tell the story of three geese,
always two to usher the weak
one to the earth, to stay with it.

And they will not leave it for anything
except the final breath, you say.
It is the rule of geese.
Always three.

How to end?
How to land?

There is a story with no words
and the feel of air under wing:
We were here, we looked so loud
against the evening sky.

Come, there is still sunlight
and air left.

Copyright © 2007 Tricia Asklar All rights reserved
from Redactions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission