Late night poetry, Geese, frozen grass (Haibun-esque)

I forget to pause in the moments between things. To see the world as it is rather than as the thing I have come from or am going to. This evening, after coming home from work I noticed a light on in a building on the property. I walked out to turn it off, but was stopped in the darkness of early winter by Geese. Canadian Geese honking their way south filled the air above me. I could not see them, but their call - and my searching for it's source - lead me to a most magnificent moon.

world aglow

a southward voyage

pause to breath

The moon lit the sky. The backsides of clouds gathered and solo, like the configuration of school children on a recess break, across the night sky. Because of their call, and the moon, now I noticed that the grass - uncharacteristically green due to a warm November - had traded in it's rain-coat for one of fine ice. It crunched softly as I shifted my weight looking out at the sky then back down to my feet, and out over the rest of the yard.

building light

fragile point hovers

moon's presence

An interruption. A call to presence in the middle of thinking between places. A reminder of the moon. and Geese. and cold.