Like the sky maps sketched
in the bird brains of the geese
flying overhead this morning
in their flocks and vees,
your gentle face is etched
into my genealogy.
I hear their honk and chatter
loud and clear; they fly by
as if it doesn’t matter
that a day cannot be erased
by hoar frost. Yes, it’s here again,
sparkling like it did four years ago,
stiffening remaining leaves and
silvering the grass outside my window.
Kim M. Russell, 9th January 2021
For earthweal open link weekend #52, also linked to Poets and Storytellers United Writers’ Pantry
writing in north norfolk 
A powerful poem of loss and remembrance, Kim. I love the half-rhyme of ‘geese’ with ‘vees’, it sings with a mournful music.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you, Ingrid. Yesterday was harder, as the last time I visited her was the day before she died. We have been haunted by geese for the past week or so, and I can’t wait to get out and about later – we’re allowed an hour’s exercise and I’m hoping to see them on the Broads.
LikeLiked by 2 people
These anniversaries are always tough. Hope you’re feeling ok. Getting out and about sounds like a good plan.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Really wonderful, Kim.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh this is wonderful, wrenching work, KR.
All of our geese are gone now; all of our silvered grass is under a foot of snow.
I know those anniversaries; I’ve got one coming up, too, in a couple of weeks, so I thought you might (enjoy?) this:
https://eggsovertokyo.blogspot.com/2014/08/valentines-day.html
I’m with you.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you so much, Ron, for your kind words and the link.
LikeLike
Lovely words, Kim.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you kindly.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah, January is an anniversary month for me, too. This poem is so beautiful. I love the photo too.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks so much, Sherry.
LikeLike
God, I feel this so strongly:
-David
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, David.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such a tender poem, Kim. You link death to the geese also gone, but they’ll be back bringing the spring. Meanwhile, the memories are still and ever-present. I’m glad I don’t have any particular weather to link to my mother’s death. I was too shocked to notice much at all.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Jane. It was harder yesterday as I visited her the day before she died.
LikeLike
That’s hard, not to have been there. My mum hung on until we all got to the hospital. Only just, but she did.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such yearning, a feeling I definitely associate with geese. The elegiac simplicity is just right. (K)
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Kerfe.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can feel the sadness and the geese and the loss. sigh…beautifully written.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Truedessa.
LikeLike
A mournful music yes, but a presence. That’s how the grief lives on in us. Beautifully sketched here. – B
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Brendan.
LikeLike
How important it is for the bereaved person to speak to loved one now deceased. That part of them needs to feel that warmth of their relationship still exists…as it is with mine.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I often feel my mum is still with me.
LikeLike
The gentleness is all through the poem, along with the poignancy. A beautiful remembrance.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Rosemary.
LikeLike
A procession of honor and memory.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Colleen.
LikeLike
This is so tender in its feel and memory. Beautiful writing!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you!
LikeLike
Moving and beautiful evocation–the invisible maps and the twists of inheritance.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Wyndolynne.
LikeLike
Beautifully descriptive of the recurring pain of loss. No one is truly gone so long as we carry them in our memory.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Bev.
LikeLike
Tender is the morning … as tender as your words.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Helen.
LikeLike
Lovely. So sad, and beautiful.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Lisa.
LikeLike
There is a mixture of longing and sorrow in this one, which I can relate to much too easily. It makes me think of every anniversary and birthday and holiday that came after losing my little brother. Things I never thought would bring his life to mind in the most vivid ways–loud music in the street, uncontrolled laughter, the taste of guava–have become reminders of his life.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I miss her so much, but I’m relieved she didn’t have to experience this awful pandemic.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh this so beautiful and so sad this day of remembrance. Take care and Kia Kaha
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Marja.
LikeLike