Poetry: Six Geese A-Laying

One of my writing challenges for myself this year was to do a ’12 days of Christmas’ poetry collection. 12 poems, one for each of the days in the song, where I put my own spin on the theme. This is one of those poems.

 

“Six Geese A-Laying”

When you were five

and so small you were

almost lost in your own jacket—

 

a bundle of bones

and two eyes so blue

they drowned out the summer sky—

 

you would recoil

from every loud noise on

the nearby street,

 

from the squeal of brakes

and engines that

rumbled like ever-present thunder.

 

Now, you are old

(though I am older)

and sound elicits

 

a different response.

Head stooped,

shoulders raised,

 

eyes gone past blue

to milky white,

you lean into the cacophony

 

like a sailboat turning into the wind,

and I am reminded

of an article I once read;

 

how geese

point their beaks

skyward during hail,

 

staring up

at the falling ice,

finding safety in the storm.