The Poet and the Goose

This sad sight seen yesterday on my way to town
has turned into a verse:

The Poor Goose!

Along the highway hurrying
to errands of my own
my eye is arrested—
and my heart is wrenched—
to see a snow goose thrashing,
wildly, its head snagged on fence wire.

I grieve for the terrified captive
flailing, struggling to be free
and think how it will die there
finally exhausted,
all alone.
Nature, how cruel you are!
And mankind worse,
to put up this barbed wire!

Rescue options futile, I realize;
desperate as this creature is,
my help would not be welcome.
Car tires with their steady hum
propel me along the rural road until
I approach the flapping bird.

I stifle a groan.
Dry up, O bleeding heart.
It’s just a plastic bag.

Oh, well. Surely
a poem can be wrung
from this ragged, fluttering “goose”
its handles snagged on a fence wire.

Fandango’s one-word challengeSTEADY
Ragtag Daily Prompt wordWELCOME


5 thoughts on “The Poet and the Goose

    1. It seems to happen every now and then that in your first look at something your mind registers something quite different than what it turns out to be. 🙂
      One writer, as her husband was backing out of the yard one evening, thought he’d run over the neighbour’s kitten. She was just sick about that all evening as they were out and about. When she got home the little limp body was still lying in the driveway so she ran to pick it up—and it was a scrap of tar paper from some roofing project!
      Thanks reading and leaving your comment. I didn’t know if anyone would actually LIKE this silly poem. 😉


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