In the light of the sunset
geese fly overhead in formation
across the waxing half-moon.
Their round bellies glow.
One dips a wing into the fresh north breeze
and rolls over
and the others follow suit.
They honk joyfully home to the pond,
The craggy trunks of walnut trees
stand massively in line, one after the next.
They are full of mistletoe
and dying of thousand canker disease
and soon they will need to come down–
but for now