Sightings
A glee club of honks draws
my eyes skyward. Canada geese
soar
across beaming blue sky,
a rippling chevron
of sound and wing,
life in full flight.
Like my sister,
once. Not this ghost of a feather
detached, adrift
in thickening fog. Life
about to lose
visibility.
I watch the formation shrink
to a black arrow shooting
south. Most geese will survive
this grueling migration, never question
their fate.
They just fly.
And I am pierced by that truth,
and by this: is improbable joy found
in the float
from one awareness into another?
How can I ever know?
I just keep my eyes
strained
for that last precious
glimpse.
Cut, Gathered, Arranged
Elegant stalks, accessorized
with red, fluted blossoms,
unfurl like a fountain
splashing
the crystal vase
the kitchen counter
my reaching hand,
with a spray of crimson.
I think about how
those same stalks swayed
in the fussy wind, how
their vermillion petals
were touched-up
glistened
by rain drops, how
bees, enticed by the red, dove
deep into their centers
to possess the pollen,
how there doesn’t seem to be
much difference
between a bee’s seduction
and mine.
Kathleen Gregg is the author of Underground River of Want (Finishing Line Press, 2021), her first chapbook. She is a proud graduate of the Author Academy program at Carnegie Center in Lexington, where she was mentored by Jeff Worley, Kentucky Poet Laureate 2019-2020. As an alum, she currently serves on the CCAA Advisory Board. She is also actively involved in the Kentucky State Poetry Society, serving the past four years as treasurer. Kathleen lives with her husband and one cat on five acres just outside Wilmore, KY.
Pegasus 