Round the corner
there's the lake....
is that Canada geese?
(we speculate...
do they migrate?)
Mums and buggies
catching the calm
mid-afternoon
before the school run.
The little ones,
pink and white,
all wide eyes and
unsteady gait
(not called toddlers
for nothing)
run to the edge
where the Canada geese
are ahead of them,
swanning up
in a flotilla of
black necks and
cream beaks.
Where's the bread?
The Tesco bags
of stale loaf, pieces
apportioned to each
little alms-giver.
But how could we foresee
these geese
would be
so forthright
in their greed...
to come up and
goose you
for the bread
that you
were throwing
to them!
It's all very well
when you're
defending Rome,
but...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A thoroughly charming poem written with a poet's eye and a gentle smile. I am reminded of childhood holidays in Walhalla where the local geese bailed up our little dachshund dog and left her quivering in a corner of the local shop. Your final stanza is... well, perfect. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥