9-7-18

Geese above me this morn,
Fly over backyard,
Triangle squad
Honks rubber-bulbed horns,
Fleet's feet, flat as petal
Specimens,
Tremble on ends
Of hewn legs.
My ankles, bumped
With summer's bites,
Force me to scratch,
I bow my head,
Then look up to bare
Wedge of sky

Laura Stickney 2018