Don Thackrey

The Heartache of Geese

“Why do the honking geese make my heart ache?”
My eight-year-old knows how to put to me
Questions without good answers. For his sake,
We started pondering this mystery.

They circled back as if to emphasize
Some solemn message John had seemed to sense
When they flew by before with worried cries.
What did they fear with goose intelligence?

With rail-thin outstretched necks and tucked-back feet,
A dozen geese at barely treetop height
Propelled themselves with metronomic beat
Of wings that should have given us delight.

We stood in silence, my small son and I,
And listened to the rhythmic shush of air,
A sound that seemed to intimate goodbye,
That winter’s near and all life must prepare.

The leader pointed south, and soon the geese
Were specks of darkness in a sunlit sky.
They left us with a melancholy peace
And now no need to answer my son’s why.

We paused a moment, then we walked away.
I had my work to do, and John his play.

[First published in Lucid Rhythms, Issue 3, 2008]

Straight Furrow

I want to plow one furrow straight
Before my harvest time draws near.
There’s been a frost; the time is late;
The weather soon will turn severe.
I’ve practiced all my life to keep
The four-horse team and plow aimed true;
You’d think I’d do it in my sleep,
But errors happen, each one new.
It might be something in the ground,
Or, likelier, the outside horse
Will swing toward something tempting found
And throw us just a bit off course.
It’s time for me to concentrate
And leave a final furrow straight.

Training

My prairie jottings are an exercise
To gather kindling for the fire of mind,
Ignite imagination, learn surprise,

To train my eyes and ears so I can find
Fresh ways of thought, new images of earth,
To reexamine all I’ve praised, maligned,

To bring me, through long labor, to rebirth,
A man made new, who wrote some verses, laughed
About them, but still thought some lines were worth

The paper used to put them in a draft
For working on as he improved his craft.

[First published in The Road Not Taken, Autumn 2008]