The Goose 

The water is warm this time of year a tint of blue mixed with green yet it seems so cool. I could hear a Canadian goose honking somewhere in the distant taunting her way towards our boathouse, taunting her way towards the blue green- water that seems so cool. 
Yet I could not move- just watching standing still waiting for her to land upon the water that seems so cool. I could hear the dinner bell ringing behind the small hill, I could see the rain clouds moving in yet I could not move. 
Standing still, watching, and waiting for her to land. I could hear my wife calling my name, the pace of the wind moving the waves on lake, breaking against the boathouse yet I could not move. Silently I stood waiting for her to land. 
A ghostly touch from a floating leaf brought my head about, a tear fall upon my spot I stared at it yet I could not move. She landed gently on the blue green water at last how it seems so cool. 
I could hear my children singing just over the small hill, I could hear the preacher saying how the water looked different its color a strange hue, I could see my wife crying yet I could not move. 
Spring reminded me of autumn, and I waited for snow to fall - my Canadian goose will be here soon to make her call.

The boathouse now weather worn just a shell of what was once before, and the small hill tattered down soft by time, the dinner bell silent yet the water still seems so cool. 
My wife joined me here, late last spring loneliness and love brought her life to an end. Our children grown moved away a long time ago, yet a rose and a tear falls upon the blue-green water once a year about the time the goose closes in, together we watch the sky for our goose to land upon the water as we stand still how the water seems so cool year after year.