Winter
Evening Walk
by
Jennifer Froehle
Hoarse
trilling on high heralds the flying vee.
Onward
they come, fleet
in
full formation,
ragged-edged
outliers, collapsing and rebuilding
the
ingrained pattern, weak drafting off strong.
Wings
beat in unison,
Incising
cuneiform wedges across smudged gray clouds,
Skywriting
news of shortening days and dwindling light,
Foretelling
us the ending of the year.
In
the sharp air, I freeze,
Lift
eyes to track their path
As
they sweep past,
So
purposeful, their call
to
flight embedded in their souls.
For
one brief moment, I know I could go,
Join
the airborne caravan
trekking
southwest toward the light,
Follow
sky roads mapped upon our cells to their end,
And
bask in warmer climes till springtime turns us home.
I
would lift into the air,
Fight
this tug of earth with all my might
Until,
aloft, I found my place
behind
a fellow traveler, settled in
And
I would fly.
Honks
and cries recede
Before
the swirling outline fades from sight,
A
breath and they are gone,
Sweeping
the year along in their silent wake.
And
I resume my journey home
on
foot.
Jenny
Froehle
is an Indianapolis writer and consultant with decades of experience
as a middle school teacher of language arts. She is at work on a
novel, but takes frequent procrastination breaks to write
professional articles, blog posts, and poetry inspired by her evening
walks.