My flock,my folks

For the Prompt at Sunday scribblings “Flock”

I seem to be writing from the other side more now-a-days. Could  the animal in me be coming out?

My flock- my folks

Easy to care for, easier to eat
I am a farm pet ,they call us silly geese
I am free to peck at the grass, free to waggle my neck
The kind master ,he locks me in a box and takes all my eggs.
When the sky turns grey and the sun hides behind some fluff
I cackle and cackle with joy as I spot my mother above.


We were once together, flying over oceans at noon
We were once a single shape streaking the rising ,pale moon
Beloved of the skein, pampered under her wings
We flew over worlds in patterns, lines and rings.
A shot rang above the desert, and I fell on earth-unfurled
Broken wings and terror, shattered my buoyant world.


She looked back and called but I was too weak
The hunter was at large, the flock had to leave
Now she knows me not but my cackles never cease
When I spot my newest sibling, I can’t help but weep
What wouldn’t I give to leave this wretched, dry ground
to float above the pearly moon with my own flock around.?



28 thoughts on “My flock,my folks

  1. Nice! We have flocks of geese and chicken where we live. So fun to read something from the goose’s point of view! They are much maligned here because of all their droppings.


  2. Graceful as a poem, sad as a story! My father was a hunter and one given day he wrote a poem asking the game he killed to forgive him. I couldn’t avoid remembering this…


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