The weekend rolled in.
A smooth, expected wave.
My turn to feed geese.
Still hanging out at the pond.
Goslings, grown, almost indistinguishable from parents.
Maybe adolescents now.
Waddling further afield.
As grownups look on.
Giving them space.
To peck for more to eat.
Just like typical teens.
But, yesterday, I scattered the last of the cheerios.
Bob, reassuring me, we had another cereal for today.
An old stale one from months ago.
Before settling into bed, he ran downstairs to find it.
Opened the pantry, searched.
I must have tossed it out, he apologized.
Now what? I shrugged.
Thinking of my weekend charges, their disappointment.
So, he ransacked the closet further.
Finding two plastic containers holding cheerios.
Packed, ready for a grandchild to munch on a car ride.
Also, pulling out rice crackers, other assorted possibilities.
For me to collect in the morning.
Put into a brown paper bag.
The geese didn’t know the effort it took
to assemble their early treat.
As they raced to compete for toasted oats,
half flying, half on fleet feet.
Lynn Benjamin
June 10, 2024
