We gather on the patio
to trace the path of an autumn globe
over blue night sky.
Then one deep oboe note
and a silhouette appears. Honks
follow. High cries. Strident echoes
fill the air with unforgiving music.
They form two perfect V's
across the lambent circle,
sail beyond, travel south
to places only geese should fly.
From The Fringes of Hollywood (Jacaranda Press).