I have been reading a lot of Mary Oliver's poetry and found it impossible not to write a poem in imitation -- really only imitating her desire to "pay attention." She goes another important step and adds an observation, a personal discovery, or probing question that is deeply meaningful. She has thought deeply. I'm afraid I haven't her depth. But here is "Geese"
They announce their arrival
With a few honks seconds
before they descend,
Not in formaion as for migration--
They are locals with grzing
routines and preferences.
The black webbed feet extend forward
brakes to take the shock
of fiteen pounds dropped to earth.
Never a stagger or bounce, solid pefect landing.
They fold their wide wings
and set to work combing the grass.
Often one stands, head held high,
watching. I do not know if he's the gander
guarding his flock of geese.
He is not larger or differently marked.
Why don't I know simple facts
about the daily visitors to my lawn?
