Joe Zaccardi




Toward the End of Day

There are five white geese
searching the rushes of a tide pool,
as though something had been lost
and lay near. They wade in and out
the way hunger pangs come and pass.
the way life waits on the heart.
There’s a cool offshore breeze.
And what was once empty fills.
Just as willow fluff covers this water
and these white geese fly off
carrying red veils.