MOVING DAY

Grey and misty is the morning,
A fall chill in the late september air,
But the chill of excitement
From the chorus of geese
Lifting off
The safe waters of the bay,
The summer survivors
Headed south,
Leaving their carrion family members,
Washed on shore;
Are they soon forgotten?
Or do they mark
Next year's stop-over?
With their scented graves,
To be annually remembered,
In passing through
As they thrill us through and through,
Wondering, in this war of terror,
Will it thus be evermore?

Cy, Sept.,26, '01