Poetry for Geese

A few posts ago I noted that it has been a long time since I've written a poem. Today I did. 

Poetry for Geese

 

It’s a grand San Francisco day, 

 

The Mediterranean light casting its glow 

 

Over the distant Golden Gate, viewed from

 

a bench by a pond in the Presidio

 

 with its burbling fountain

 

                lush green grass,  

 

                      rocks in the tumbling stream.

 

 

While I’m sitting there, drinking it all in, 

 

a goose comes to greet me. 

 

Stops in front of me, looking straight into my eyes. 

 

She’s so close I could reach out and touch her.

 

 

My hand goes to my bag and she follows it,

 

hoping for some bread crumbs or some such thing. 

 

Instead, I take out my book of Lawrence Ferlinghetti poems. 

 

She is not amused.

 

“What’s the point?” she silently speaks to me, “If you can’t eat it?”

 

“Ah, but this is food for the soul. Listen. “

 

I start to read. 

 

Me, I thought it one of his better poems.

 

But she listens for 20 seconds 

 

                 and then waddles off,

 

                        thoroughly unimpressed.