evening on brant point

brant_pointBetter a blacknecked goose
takes flight — one, startled —
then another — better
they wrest their nightgray
bodies from the dark marshpool
as the tired sun
sighs out red gold
into the dimming sky.
Better the still air
suddenly fills with
frantic wings, beaks
calling confusion, alarm
across the outstretched bay.
Others answer — hear it —
brants, honking too –
whitecheeked buffleheads pipe in —
all running, splashing up
the black surface,
desperate for flight,
not knowing why —
Better a flowerburst of chaos,
wild honking,
clattering beaks,
reedy voices deep —
calling the marsh,
the upreaching reeds
and tidebared shore
to rise, too —
to take wing,
and for that instant —
Oh, throw yourself open —
an instant, but only just —
before the voices find harmony,
wings — rhythm,
and evening
gently settles
on the bay.

One thought on “evening on brant point

  1. Love this poem. It’ really beautiful. do you remember something like: I sang to you and the moon but only the moon could hear and was kind. Yet now you come to me…like the pale leaves (???) bathed in moonlight. no bird need carry my voice. Let it go.

    I have this in a notebook from the late 70’s. Would love to know this poem again….I may have it all wrong.



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