It is seldom we have the chance to observe snow geese
on their migratory path and preparing to land.
In the agitation of honking hankerchiefs It came to me -
This is how it must feel to be standing In the middle of a snow globe
Waiting for all the my dust to settle Around me.

Composure on the lake surface comes quickly
Like an achromatic bed sheet
They become shiftless and silent.
You might even overlook them
If it wasn’t for their almost unbearable whiteness
Even the irritating slap of November
And her indefatigable pursuit to carve her place To impose her will
Isn’t enough to deflect my attention From this.
Inaudible to anyone
childlike and believing I can hold time
I say - Stay just a minute more