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Above Shewbird Mountain
the wild goose wends
northward on feathered fins.
In V-shape he heads
his honking flock
through uncharted course.
Off buried loggers' roadbed
evening shadows ricochet
through poplar, beech, hickory,
and block all worry.
The bleeding sky reflects
like cinders in an oval pond,
where the wild geese drive down
for an overnight's rest.
From Shewbird Mountain (Finishing Line Press, 2006).
This poem first appeared in Appalachian Heritage.
Used here with the author's permission.
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Brenda Kay Ledford is a blogger, author, and poet in Hayesville, North Carolina who writes about her Southern Appalachian heritage. She enjoys nature and this theme is often included in her work, which has earned her the Paul Green Award a dozen times from the NC Society of Historians. Brenda’s hobbies include photography, playing the piano and harmonica, writing, and hiking. Learn more about her at http://blueridgepoet.blogspot.com.
    
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wayne.goodling@yahoo.com:
You gave me a beautiful image. Thanks.
Posted 03/16/2025 06:11 PM
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Lori Levy:
I can picture this beautiful scene.
Posted 03/16/2025 01:58 PM
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EstherJ:
Beautiful and transporting!
Posted 03/16/2025 09:35 AM
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Larry Schug:
It's easy to see myself inside this poem. The geese are just returning to "our" wetland (it's really theirs).
this poem lifts my heart.
Posted 03/16/2025 07:59 AM
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rhonasheridan:
A delightful poem
Posted 03/16/2015 05:47 AM
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Katrina:
I like the rhyme of 'hickory' with 'ricochet' and all the honking onomatopoeia.
Posted 03/16/2015 03:37 AM
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