I'll tell you a sad tale 
  so short with an abrupt end
    of necessity I follow the tangent 
      to the pond without relish
        for one lone goose dabbles at the edge
          and flocks who bickered there have flown
I'll tell you of a dream 
  our goose with a set of mallards forms a nation 
    smaller coots feel bold among vigilant eyes
      just as our protection once seemed assured
        under the keenest gaze 
I'll set out again this fog-breath morning
  of necessity approach the spawning pond 
    and what is there for eyes to see
      wish me luck