Upon Sighting Snow Geese, Flight North

Storm peeled back night sky's
skin, a deeper, pewter hue. In the west
shade's drawn, but overhead reveals
a slice of silver moon, dangles one crystal
from her chin. Thin feathers of clouds
friable as tissue in wind's steel, flee.

Snow dervishes dance, sway as if house,
tree angers air. Overhead, indigo behind
shining sliver, where star's eyes peek through
night's torn fabric; I hear them:

Above the hiss of blizzard's retreat,  slow flow,
softer whispers from folds of cloud
tatters, two no, three pastel streaks, geese.

Not familiar birds in tux or tails,
these glow white as swans. Quiet voices.
Pairs fly onward. Above me, upside down,
my eyes, snow geese, a raft of them,
rows of rafts, ride rapids through heaven's
open gate. "My God!" I call, unbidden two words leave my lips,
smoke  air that rips them from me,"Oh, my God!"
I turn, I turn, a child on a merry-go-round, fingers reach for

glowing geese, moon dangle, the clouds, snow dervishes'
demented swirl, this February night. Tears frozen down
my cheeks, it is all God.

Rachael Z. Ikins
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