The Canada Goose

Every spring and every fall
I’d hear geese call and call and call.

I’d watch them fly in v-formation
Seeking out some habitation— 

A pond, a lake, a riverbed,
A place to rest both wing and head.

All summer long, I’d dodge their droppings
And check in all their nests for goslings,

Careful not to make them angry
(My geese are known for being cranky).

They’d molt, and raise their brood, and then
I’d hear them call and call again

As they winged their way down south
To their mysterious winter house.

I always wondered where they hid
While my cold home was bleak, frigid.

And then I left the wild, free North
And travelled wide this splendid earth. 

While I was blessed and pleased to wander
I missed my friends, both goose and gander.

For years I did not hear their call
No hiss, no honk. No call at all.

And then I settled in a place
Oft left untouched by snow’s embrace,

A place with summers sweltering hot
A place with lots of people—lots!

A place that felt so big and foreign
I wasn’t sure I’d ever fit in.

But then the autumn sky brought geese
Who showed me they are just at ease

In cityscape as countryside,
Which comforts me, I must confide

Now every spring and every fall
I hear geese call and call and call.

It matters not how far they've flown—
They're home. I’m home. 

I’m home, 

I’m home.