North for Geese


 

It is late and I’ve lost my way
but I will not follow the sun.

I slip along hedgerow
and snow fence,
I am a secret
I am a theme–

All these glowing houses
push back the falling blue–
Here is what was promised:

–Milk
–Bread
–Greens

and all their dreams
a grocery list.

Winking, I am sunset–
I gather light like berries,
my wayless walking a wind
in last year’s leaves–

Winter churned sun chairs
along a great white drift, now
a backstop for a boy
only his shirt tail and
ball rolling, a stroller
and bike spinning
called inside.

I leave my ghost footprints
and squirrels think Me
the source of their
miraculous stores–

Among the dinner, and dirt,
and clean clothes raining
dogs nod toward me
then ignore me
for sticks and tails

But
I block the Moon;
I am North for geese;
a Goddess
because
he sees me.

 

– Teresa Kiplinger

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