Setting sail across the windswept plains, Air rushing by, as does the land below, Wings arching, Slicing through the thin air, Covering distances unknown.
Searching always for that magnetic compass, Guiding lines of power encompassing this world. Soaring over lakes, seas, oceans. Driven by instinct every spring and fall.
Escaping the winter winds rushing down from the north, to warmer climes, less frigid temperatures. Returning yearly to mate, and raise their young, to continue the cycle, ever changing and unchanging.
From any reader's point of view, "Instinct" is excellent work. A definite sense of movement--adventure, even--flows strongly through this classically structured piece.
You have an undeniable knack for creating unique nature=based poetry, Judy. You truly do.
Very very nice! The Geese and Swans will be heading south within weeks. The air is filled with honks and murmurs. I could hear it as I read this piece.
A Fowl poem, which isn't foul! lol
Gorgeous poetry!