Geese
Alone, I am driving down a rural road. Suddenly, geese converge
from every direction. As I continue, they stay within my view.
Although miles high, they are nearby. Perhaps they are illusion.
The remote location, the expansive landscape might affect my
observations. As if on cue, they come into formation. Then they
float, no motion at all. They are still but do not fall. They remain
aloft longer than seems possible. Yet, they are calm. Then, they
slowly flap their wings, the span of which must have been con-
sidered when they took up position. Such instances widen our
perspective. We access life in another dimension. The geese as
a group point due north. We all have places we hope life takes
us. And we prefer to travel with ease. These possibilities are
always present. It is a matter of perception, a chosen direction.
In a moment, the geese are in the distance, beyond my vision.
The poetry of Laurie Didesch appears or is forthcoming in Ibbetson Street, The Comstock Review, The MacGuffin, California Quarterly, Rambunctious Review, Third Wednesday, Young Ravens Literary Review, The Ravens Perch, Stone Poetry Quarterly, Adanna Journal, The Rockford Review, Westward Quarterly, Bronze Bird Review, The Awakenings Review, and more. Her work also appears in anthologies on Memory and Writing, among others. Her awards include being chosen to attend a juried workshop given by Marge Piercy. Laurie lives with her husband Alan and their three cats in Illinois. She is currently working on her first book.
Amethyst Review 