Legacy Is Easier With Webbed Feet

By Alex Crowthers

a whisper in the wind follows ruffled feathers;

sputtered squawks lost by haunting lullabies threatening flooded frozen fractals

there’s a map we don’t see, we dare to know, they must follow.

embedded deep within great goose generations — a task so grand,

geographical separations don’t dare disturb them.

i, a human, admire this feat; a deliberate duty designated from delivery to death.

often i yearn to fly south, a straight shot to my famed fate.

but for now, i’ll settle spying canada’s bird namesake from afar;

myself lost, waiting for wind whispers that will guide me to my

fleeting, flightless future.