I want to tell you about the V.
It is perfect
an arrow well-aimed by someone
towards somewhere.
You and I move forward in a like manner
directed by no one
at least not that we can see.
Towards we don’t know where.
It’s the journey?
Isn’t it?
Isn’t that the important part?
Do the geese cease their honking
to think about where they’re headed?
Not that I know
nor do they stop to lament
that their necks are
too long
too green
too sleek.
Or that their honks are too nasal
not guttural enough.
Or to apologize for bumping
into each other in mid-air.
No goose guilt, not as far as I know.
Their motto could well be
it’s all good.
Even the ragged, undulating V
works for them.
They still get where they want to go.
“It’s all good,” they cry out, “it’s all good.”
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