Geese in Winter

Full of courage, winter, 

geese fly north. The car

almost wouldn't start.

Drive along the Mohawk

flood plain. Cattails, grasses, 

no doubt ash and elm.

Restful tans and browns.

Flat, low, but still city.
Arrive at the interview.

Corner of State and Clinton,
luminous blue corporate logo
between empty store fronts.

That they might not offer me the job

and they might, make me equally sad.

Fly in formation, life for pay.

Young, my boast had been

distances and heights traveled. Now

any road serves well

as the long narrow road to the north.

The cold, quiet solitude of that road

would serve well too.

The story of Sally, the story of John.

It takes an advanced, healthy economy

to produce science and technology

but aborigines may track animals

and draw symbols in the sand, give

each cloud and bird and tree a personal

secret name. And explain according

to a logic for which we need equations

how geese in winter flow north today.