What Geese Know

by Ewan Craig

Go north!
The geese know.
You have been waiting in your tired south
through the dead times, the grey times,
times of cold and darkness
waiting there for something like a sign—
and there they go
all strung out diagonal in a row.

I watched them till they dwindled
beyond vision; beating north,
they know what lies beyond
the northern horizon,
dream of a wakening promise—
and on they fly
one by one on into the northern sky.

Was it a whisper carried on the wind
that made them lift their heads,
break their slumber;
was it a shiver passed silently over the water
and opened their eyes and their wings to
the quickening season?
They know this is a time
for leaving, time
for going where the north is wide and free—
and so they go
into that unknown they somehow know.