Monday, January 3, 2011

The Third

Goose Food

While driving through the country
I passed a snowy field
What was in the summer bountiful
Has given up its yield.

A thousand black shapes on there
I see them from a far
Grow in size, grey, black and white
As I approach them in my car.

They prod and poke with long neck and beak
For what is left behind
For the farmer, feeding geese in winter
Was not on his mind.

A seed or two they pull from earth
Some juicy bugs there, too
The frozen earth so hard gives up
A worm they'd not eschew.

I sip from my warm coffee cup
And those geese I watch
I aim my brand new camera
And freeze them with one shot.

I appreciate their beauty
As they seek out frozen stem
Their courageous struggle awes me
But I wouldn't want to be them.

Brandon Myuse

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