On the back-way valley road
just after the curve toward the produce
stand, I startled upon them—
a white breeze, a wild scribbling,
fluttering down and lifting:
snow geese settling on a fallow field.
They gathered over the muddy rivulets
among the furrows, covering
the whole ground with their hunger.
And all along the horizon
the rest of the way to the ferry,
white clouds fed among the blue hills.