TH E G AG GLE Bev Steckert Sigh of leaves rustling in the soft breeze Sweet sounds of songbirds in the trees Hoarse caw of the raven soaring above In the distance a faint sound hardly distinguishable Sounding a little like Canadian geese, but no Not at this time of year Closer and closer the sounds come More and more sounding like geese But slowly the honking of geese begins to separate Into voices and conversations And suddenly a gaggle of bikers speed by Pedaling furiously and talking all at once The sound starts to recede and finally Returns to the honking of a gaggle of geese
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