Be Longing

The Geese are going 

One calls lower, 

Slower than all others 

Visitors of our own- 

Climbing through the window 

Where an overfed dog wags 

And farts with happiness 

Unmindful 

To the cold cloaked knowing, 

The premonition 

Preceding all awakening! 

The pre-gift before speaking 

Where acceptance is sacred 

And rejection is profane 

Still we move on 

Taking turns in front 

Weary when They leave 

Us behind 

; 

And still I am only 

Reading the story, seeing 

That bird fly off from 

The Rest 

Over my head and the 

Moon's to the west 

Calling, cackling 

Alone for fact but 

Lonely? 

I know there is water 

Across the valley, 

I am not alone in the knowing 

Yet must I fly without 

. 

Wondering at my own audacity 

Crying it aloud 

To a 12-year-old girl and the moon