December gray as dying hope
phalanx clouds armed with snow
sea and sky vainly loitering
alongside rumored daybreak
for a horizon that has reneged
sending gelid breezes in its place
A lone figure, himself seemingly
having missed a rendezvous
spectates from the bluffs
the eyrie pause of an aimless walk
A crescent of sheltered beach below
stingy from point to point
narrow broadening only to recede
pebbly, uncordial to lazing flesh
But snug enough for geese
who failed to board the last flight
a hundred perhaps, necks tucked in
a colony of feather-ruffled huddling
From the right tip the dog appears
large, black, leashed
neither tugging nor restrained
composed in power and methodical advance
its master faceless but quite known
The geese, to a rare honk
revive, waddle to the edge
one cluster mimics another
taking to the water in a staggered launch
that strings them in diagonals
from sand to safer depths
Absence of bark or bite
meager gaggling of concern
to the figure it’s obscure
if indeed he’s witnessed
the choreography of the world
Photo by Christopher Rodgers on Unsplash.
Lauro Palomba
Lauro Palomba has taught ESL and done stints as a freelance journalist and speechwriter. Approximately ninety of his poems and short stories have appeared in American and Canadian literary journals.