Salt

This winter is coming
towards us
our home sheltered
secure

I remember the first time
when the grey lag goose
swept low across
harvested fields

migrating for feeding
seeking innately
to survive our harsh blown winds
our darkness'

like fishermen
following the herring
who dart and dance away
through the seas

they followed the route
given them by nature
a path plotted
through skies shedding their skin

white and grey swirls of snow
falling like forgotten souls
left behind, empty
spinning as if to cry out

'Wait for us'

we wait
watching in wonder
the geese chasing life
over our heads

and ready our fire,
our supplies of food, water
stored in preparation for this winter
out here
 
this winter will greet us 
passionately again
and we will love with it 
accepting her gift