I am not used to
the sounds of wild geese
circling frozen lakes

I am not familiar with
snow drifts blanketing
the landscape with
frozen covering

I am not accustomed to
layering myself in
warmth to ward off the cold

I am not steeped in
vistas of barren tundras
with the remains of winter
pockmarking the earth

I have never been in
this lonely place without you
these minus temperatures
of grief are wholly foreign

You are a spring and
summer memory
not this icicle cathedral
you are spring tulips
and summer fairies

You are deep lake discussions
on warm summer nights
dragonflies and butterflies
dreamcatchers from the
store at the native reservation

The only wild goose I knew
before you were gone
were the plans
we’d hatch on adventures
we would take

I guess I knew then we
would never pull them off
your body was never
going to let you do
what your mind
so easily conceived
but we hatched those
joyful geese on wings of laughter

And now I am standing
In this Canadian cold
you are gone

I am not used to
the sound of wild geese
circling frozen lakes.

© Tanya Southey @Ordinary Poetry

Share on Facebook

Tanya Uncategorized