then the geese flew over
arrowing south
their dissonant claxon jazz

high feathering wings
issued whispered blazings
into the low fire
of the January sun

formed a shifting heiroglyph
on the glass
blue infinite
nattering about snow
in the white brogue of the North
hanging in wonder
on the dying winter thermals
fleeing from death
in the wastes of Siberia
compassed towards
the impossible idea
of Africa