Dr Paul's Poetry Pages

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Geese 

Off to the left a wing points to the water ski pond where the rest wait white and grey
At first I'm not sure what they are, vacillate between gulls and geese,
think of the fat gulls on the Kaw or pet geese at the cemetery by Menninger.
Long passed by the geese, snow and blue on the square damned pond,
I want to have stopped and touch the warm feathered sides.
I think on how I will handle my 8 A.M. class.
Lecture as before on ribosomes and enzymes?
Yes, that's it: let the students wonder,
and ask me if it's possible to turn a mammal to a bird,
ask what genetic tricks could lead to such a thing.
Get them to ask while I can still form the syllables and grasp the chalk with my wings.
Yes that's it; no need to explain the grey feathers swirling into the room as I fluff my sides
and point to where the rest are taking flight north.