The Geese

The torrents of life have worn me thin.
Tonight, I can barely keep my feet
As I make my way in search of a place
Which tonight I might call my home.
To avoid being seen by those who
Move about in the city,
I take the route through the park
Alongside the old pond where the geese
Make their home.
And sure enough, there they are,
And I stop to watch them.
The water ripples with circles of orange
And violet as the geese bathe
Under the light of the setting sun.
My pleasures are so fleeting, like
The sunset. The geese take flight,
And again, I am alone.