Above the rush
Of the icy river
with its muddied shores
Above the sharpness of winter trees
Stripped bare, most basic forms revealed
Geese fly
Northbound
Instinct flocking them together
Rhythmic honks
Rhythmic wingbeats
Even in the bitter wind
Finding serenity in a generational course
In a flock that makes space for weary wings
to fall back into the shelter of the ones ahead
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