Snow Geese What ineffable grace where they lift from satin ice fields and arc across a milk-white moon as if spirit had gathered the wind in this crystalline moment for its own up-rushing, inestimable purpose. What streaming they make along the winter sky, how the air seems more mystical and translucent for their flying as they rise to greet the glowing sun and ride the canyon clouds until they drift to nearly nothingness, a long thin line of shadow and suggestion. And then, as if spirit could never forget the earth, they ease, hover, suddenly settle into brilliance, glorious air, a chaos of wings that feathers and preens the glistening light.
John Valentine has recently retired from 45 years of teaching philosophy courses at various colleges.
Amethyst Review 