Old Goose
Standing at the open window
Of the train rushing through new terrain
Listening to the rhythmic pounding
Of the wheels on the shiny rails
~
Yes, I will, I do, I can
I see, I make, with love
Yes, I choose, I go, I try
To fly. I make a leap
~
Choosing the forward momentum
Denying the steel bars
In that cold and hungry
Prison cell of fear
~
No, to halting fearful saying
You’ve had your fill. It’s too late
No, to thinking it can’t work out
You’re too old, just be still
~
Even the old goose still makes
The journey South
She doesn’t wait
To grace your Christmas plate
~~~
donegallizdoyle 