Being There

The air is filled with the morbidity
Of wet orange leaves.
There is no way to fake the investment.
There is no voice mail to leave.
There is no email to send.
There is no package to Fedex.

For this is how it is:
You have to be there
When the geese fly in
In “V” formation,
Over a winking sun,
In the early morning


You know that nothing is ever lost.
Like gauze wrapping open sores,
These wounds are just passports
Into the foreign land of others
Who understand the language
And who know the terrain.

For this is how it is:
You have to be there
When the geese fly out
In “V” formation,
Over a killing frost,
In the early morning.