Each September We Went to See the Geese
and this was before condos built up
all around my hometown, back when
the neighbour boy had a secret. He said,
“I’ll tell you when the birds land”
because like magic they know
to fly and fall together, feather
the sky and call hollow
into a dusk dying to frost.
This was when I believed in secrets,
in that last hunching in cool grass
before pushing on slightly from summer,
when anything might happen, so small beneath
pressing bodies full of air
come suddenly down
onto the lake.