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Green Grass Dreams
by Maggie Kelly

A Chinook wind winds its warm way
in to bring the false hope of spring
to a gaggle of geese nesting under
tree shelter up the hill toward the mountain.

Roused by the promise of fresh green
grass which they have not seen since
last October, the geese don their
orange, webbed galoshes and gambol

their way down hill, sliding and slewing
in the melting snow, to the fork in the road
where they know their sweet grass dreams
are hardly covered by snow any more.

The eldest goose, a little aloof at such
early treasure is more dainty and measured
at the banquet table, already choosing
what tale will assuage their broken dreams.


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