As March forewarns and patches of bare grass wink,
they come on solo flights with long Hollywood like necks.
Journey frigid wind currents make round eyes blink;
are these last of stragglers on empty trek?
I think not, they are mighty explorers;
adventurers at heart battling the last of ice.
Fore-runners of mild spring breeze, restorers.
A day or week may pass with sun so nice;
deep rich tones bubbling from long feathered throat.
Wings soaring, flapping, dancing on spring breeze
open waters still chilled; large forms float.
Away! Early geese you are such a tease.
Then in final V-formation all return.
The last of frost worn as nail polish;
while wings flap like rhythm of a gittern*.
Promises for balmy, cold abolish!
*The gittern was a relatively small, quill-plucked, gut strung instrument that originated around the 13th century and came to Europe via Moorish Spain. It was also called the quinterne in Germany, the guitarra in Spain, and the chitarra in Italy. A popular instrument with the minstrels and amateur musicians of the 14th century, the gittern eventually out-competed its rival, the citole. Soon after, its popularity began to fade, giving rise to the larger and more evocative lute and guitar.
Stop at @ dVerse Poets Pub.
