Streaks of greyish cloud above the lovat hills
on the far shore attenuate the sunset
with striations of orange and yellow.
For a moment clouds part, and the sun
radiates a shearing silver like some
Turner landscape, or Wagnerian
allegory. And, as if on cue,
with a suddenness that shocks, amazes,
from the hidden lagoons amongst the reeds,
multiple flocks of geese rise calling, flying
towards the river’s mouth, fluttering shadows
receding into dark.