NOT ALONE
(with a nod to Alexander Solzhenitsyn)
B.C. camping, two of us, one tent
lake nested below nippled peaks
we watch dusk-sun
play out across water rippled
by fleeing geese. They zigzag upward
in frenzied rush to join
three half-formed V’s
cutting through faded light.
We scan horizon to horizon
see geese dot the entire sky —
nine rise in the east
five lift off west
eight more flap out of mist
each faint cry echoing fear
they won't link up
but will fly solitary into night.
On impulse, you stir our fire
send up sparks, smoke, hope
spiraling to guide their ragged lines.
I find a log in growing dark
toss it on embers but fail to notice
the wood is alive
with ants. Desperate, they rush out
scurry along the top.
We quickly roll the log on its side
so most can drop unburned
onto cool sand. Safe
they turn, circle, circle
then climb back to their home.
They dance farewell brightly
tiny orange torches — together
not alone.
First published in The Curious Record
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