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simon.lucan@yahoo.com

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Five Goslings

by

Fledging at the speed of light

They patter like tap-dancers

Banqueting on chick-crumb

 

Soon, stately as Aldermen, and

Ripping at grass like tigers

They'll face into the rain

 

Abruptly the salad days will end

No more feinting at the post-man

Come Christmas they'll hiss in vain

🌷(1) 

goslings   chick-crumb   hiss

◄ Old and Out In the Cold

The Chapel on the Hill ►

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Wed 29th Apr 2020 11:29

A super poem. IMO, superb writing.

Not wild birds then? Our local geese are free, breeding on the canal.

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