The Goslings......
I left them last week on Thursday
to wing my way
back to beautiful Victoria
in the company of other travelers.
My thoughts are still
at the small pond
in the center of
a field of daisies,
woodland and marsh,
a field of green with
slowly turning windmill
geese
kildeer,
turtles
busier life within and below the terrain.
Seven goslings,
guided and protected by two attentive parents
became my special mission to watch.
By the last week of my stay,
this little family was smaller by three:
two goslings gone
one parent gone
My heart denied the awful reports.
Hope really does spring eternal.
Maybe the smaller number was just
a purposeful splitting up of the tiny family for
some kind of lesson in the natural world?
Part of the natural world of the pond, field and marsh are
coyotes hunting at night.
The grand feathered parent must have retaliated with equal violence
unable to save itself and
two of the little ones.
In early morning, on my second last day, I had to see for myself,
photographs blurred with great streaks of rain
as though monumental tears were being shed for my feathered friends.
It was my last morning,
the grass still soaked with rain,
spiderwebs heavily hung with glittering beads of dew.
I arrived at the pond,
just as the growing, but smaller family,
pushed off from the bank into glassy water.
It was true.
One glorious proud parent remained - was it mother or father -
Five growing goslings
Still proud
Still beautiful.
Still growing
The pond and meadow ~
quietly serene.
“Let us permit nature to have her way. She
understands her business better than we do.”
~ Michel de Montaigne
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