Poetry without interpretation

The geese are shivering letters and sky
While the spindrift is waiting to throw them into flight
And until they reach the equator they’ll v-shape their lives
While we all huddle round for cigarettes to pass the cold time
And the school children taught to become tractable
And to sort out sitting still from the factual
While Jesus chimes in for the school conventicle
And his younger brother plays X-Box over a bowl of cereal

Up Next: The Winter Solstice