Sometimes good fortune slams you.
Right into something curious, unexpected.
Like this afternoon.
Walking parking lots with Bob at Salus.
Shivering with cold.
Hands in gloves.
Hats on heads.
Each pulling inward to conserve body heat.
Looking downward to avert the wind.
When we both heard honking.
Two dozen geese roamed in front of us.
Wearing thick feather coats, black neck scarves.
Pecking grass.
Strolling sidewalks.
Milling around.
As if they were waiting.
Bob broke the silence.
I can’t tell if they’re coming up from the south or heading down from the north.
It was, indeed, confusing.
Was this a way station?
Were they just visiting from a nearby park?
Looking for mates?
Or had they stopped by to celebrate New Years Eve?
To ring in 2024 with jabbering and yammering?
Along with festive horn blowing?
We bounced questions like basketballs
without substance to our theories.
But just the very sight of them
peeled off our wintry drearies.
Lynn Benjamin
January 1, 2024
