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?
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!