by Ethel Mortenson Davis
I saw them
in strings,
making the shape of V’s,
Canadian Geese,
flying high enough
to use the lake’s edge
as their guide:
Blue-green water
with white foam
at the edges,
over rushes with dark red plumes
on their trek
southward.
For our world will
become lesser
without them,
not as full of life
as the wet summer
has been
while we wait
for the silent season
of winter—
and for the quiet winter
of our life,
a more diminished one,
a lesser world.
fourwindowspress 
I wonder about the last two lines.
Certainly we become more restricted in what we can do.
But ‘diminished’ ‘lesser’?
On my better days I am not sure about that.
Thank you Ethel for making me think deep thoughts
David
Oh Ethel, so good to hear your voice. Sayword
Ethel, this is beautifully written as always – and poignant once again, with the metaphor delicately woven in. It’s good to see you and Thomas posting again!
“For our world will
become lesser
without them,”
I look up and whisper goodbye, safe travels, please return.
This poem is so lovely, Ethel, tinged with sadness as if reflects on what can’t return. With all the violence going on in the world … the hope for peace does seem to be diminishing. XO