Wild Geese over Ronaldsay

Flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap

Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack

Whuh, huh, whuh, huh, whuh, huh, whuh, huh, whuh, huh, whuh


What is the wind (around us) made of?

Not hard.

The breath of sun.

The sweat of moon.

The seeking of the migratories.


What is the land (below us) made of?

Not hard.

The fusion of light with ocean.

The stilling of planetary vibration.

The longing of the winged travelers.


What is this cloud (we pass through) made of?

Not hard.

The cast-off dress of the rainbow.

The lust of the building storm.

The intentionality of our journey.


Who hears the creak of our pinions?

Not hard.

Yon druid with his staff aloft.

Yon crofter whistling to his dog.

The woman—there!—with her unfurled hair.


What are her tears made of?

Not hard.

The grey and silver sight of us.

The erudition of our conversation.

Her winglessness.


Flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap, flap

Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack

Whuh, huh, whuh, huh, whuh, huh, whuh, huh, whuh, huh, whuh

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