Last night the geese came back,
from the blossom of the rising moon down
to the black pond. A muskrat
swimming in the twilight saw them and hurried
to the secret lodges to tell everyone
spring had come.
And so it had.
By morning when I went out
the last of the ice had disappeared, blackbirds
sang on the shores. Every year
the geese, returning,
do this, I don’t
Two Kinds of Deliverance
from Dream Work
thank-you for taking the time to always pick the perfect poem for us!
Thank you for always reading them! This has been a nice series and the break has given me a chance to peruse a couple of new books. Looking forward to posting on them next week (if my computer is fixed soon)!