Fay Slimm.

Glorious Din.

 

Glorious Din.

 

The day going home dull light
had gathered to the horizon for dusk
to take over coming of night

and scarlet\'s dusty coverlet
hid the best of sunset but then began
a time to remember.

 

A pair of stars liquidly shone
as birds approached from southwest,
dark drifting specks on

   horizon\'s mist, quiet hoots         
from wavering indistinct skeins wrung        
remains of air-flight to roost.

 

Each dot became a bundle
of goose, vigour of muscles suddenly   
swooped noisy and hungry,

feathery myriads of arching
white beating steadily with instinct\'s
gift to food-blessed marshes.

 

With clamour of playground
at break-time I became dazzled with
glorious din of sheer sound

as press of geese-thickness
droned in relentless refusal to cease 
before true dark settled in.

 

Soon eerie silence as beaks
closed on numerous heads, countless
the reasons for goose-mystique.