The Geese Were Gone

It was a bright and sunny day
without a cloud on a breeze
to gussy up the sky and
without the flock of geese
that must have crashed into the golf
course somewhere very near
for the silence was so final
its camouflaged flames could sear
the eyes and slice the mind
trying to comprehend the flow
of motionless moments conveying
the end in a self-centered glow —
the cries of the fractured wings
could be painfully felt
in one’s own suspiciously uninjured
bones and immaculate pelt —
it was the end fermenting the end
or a pedestal for its display
nothing was moving
the geese were gone
it was a bright and sunny day.