A shadow moving over the trees
 alerted me to look up
 and see
 waves of cranes flying south,
 unbelievably high
 through the translucent blue
 of the October sky,
 layers upon swift layers,
 barely discernible
 in the clarity
 of the crystalline air.
 

 On my way to the airport
 this cold December dawn
 I see the outline
 against the grey sky,
 of seven geese in formation
 pointing south,
 Their hollow bones must have
 clamored of the coming of ice
 and frosts beyond endurance.
 Soon I follow them,
 on metal wings
 fleeing the northern winter.