Alone I am in the crowds of the street
Lights are glaring-horns are blaring
My feet are pounding the cold concrete
The clucking noise of a thousand geese
Who gather in Central Park
I feel closer to them than to people
The geese will eventually disembark
They will ask no questions and tell no lies
From this I can watch and learn
As they form the familiar triangle
Becoming specks in the sky
Until their return
The weaker and oldest remain at the rear
To enjoy the created airstream
The leaders provide in their graceful glide
In nature's grand scheme
For this I walk the streets in solitare
I have no flock to follow
There are no leaders in glide for us
My world feels as if it is hollow
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
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