6 September – Evening fly-by

Disturbing the peace,
at first they’re heard not seen,
like the dissonant honking
of competing car horns
caught in angry confrontation
somewhere in the next village.
And then they fall quiet overhead,
their swift soaring image
conflicting with their previous sound,
a graceful ticking yes in the sky,
flying in perfect formation
as if unity and close co-ordination
were the only things on their minds.
The perfect team, using the air
and its slip streams to common purpose,
they sweep on in silent, consistent shape.
But once out of sight, synchronised motion
is replaced again by cacophonous commotion,
and I can’t help thinking, despite every analogy,
that the goose at the back is protesting the route.

6 September – Evening fly-by