That day the sun rose as if
it was the most natural thing
in the world; as if the long lake
glaciers had dug in the hard
bed of a withered sea
would keep the sea’s salt
buried forever like treasure;
as if the least you could expect
was for geese to swim through
blue air in a luminous shoal,
a great white mesh hauled
up the deep blue of the lake;
as if snow itself had hatched
a flock of fat flakes on the ground
and taught them how to fly
under their own steam; or as if
it should come as no surprise
to find yourself amazed,
between the salt and the sunlight,
catching snow-geese with your bare eyes.
Robert Travers was born and raised in the United Kingdom and lives in Ithaca, New York, where he teaches history at Cornell University. His poems have appeared in Areté Magazine and Grey Magazine.
Image: ”Berthe Morisot—Girl in a Boat with Geese [c.1889],” by Gandalf’s Gallery. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.