When Dora rolls over in bed
I have grown accustomed to seeing
wild geese fly out from her back.

The geese appear too mature to be hatched or born
in the bed we share.

I guess they could have sprung into existence from Dora’s dreams,
but she never remembers her dreams to confirm this theory.

The geese know where to fly to find the chimney
to go up and out the flue.

Once outdoors, they wait until morning
to have breakfast with us at the picnic table:
a croissant or bagel with cream cheese and marmalade.

One goose stole a pair of my running shoes.
I cannot imagine a winged creature running for any distance,
but this day may have spawned a midlife crisis.

copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney

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