Wedge on Wednesday

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Train Tracks
Hot cocoa dates
ice cream on the dock
The time we swam in our underwear
star gazing
Santa Monica
Night Hikes


As a kid I'd count those geese
in their v-shaped wedge
to make sure each one had
a partner
a mate
a friend

Scarlett leaves drop
rippeling the azure lake
solitary and hidden among prickling grasses
gazing towards the gaping sky
coacoa clasped in hand

A silent film of memories
projected before my eyes
interupted by a skein
of wild geese

Nine geese
a flock of eight
one straggles in the rear

Away they go
one frantically flaps

left behind

It's that time of year, I think
I remember
I remind myself
Everything fleeing
for self preservation
I lag behind in the snowdrift of my thoughts





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