Far in the north lies a plain

Far in the north lies a plain

vast and empty.

Its white emptiness echoes

the even whiter sky.

For colours get muddied

in whiteness.

And from this space

the snow geese rise.

First, one, then three, then

softly, gently, hundreds of them.

Their beautiful necks elegantly crane

as the wings beat up and down

causing the air to dance.

They begin their journey

to far off lands

that bask in the warmth of the sun.

As they rise, they circle the plain

soulfully calling to each other,

reminding themselves of home,

one last time.

Then they fly off

until only tiny specks of black remain in the sky.

And the plain inaudibly whispers to the sky

the dreams of the geese,

which keep them both warm

to last the cold cold winter.