Still.

Morning mist
gradually losing its greyness
muffles the sound of geese
down by the river

Forty-fifth wedding anniversary

Five then seven geese flew overhead
clanking and vociferous
Then the world turned pink

Geese again

Even more briefly, no more than a glimpse,

dissension resolved, two dozen or more,

in chevron, pass close by my window.

Briefly

The geese down by the unseen river,
greet the golden dawn
with what sounds like group dissension.