We heard them long before we saw
the squabblers hove into view one night,
white bellied geese, lit from below, and flying
tired – barely above the orange streetlights,
following the coast road, the path
of the moon sparkling frost on the sea, some innate
scent of direction in the flock, argued routes
and shorelines, like us, stopped on the street
just as they paraded overhead, transporting
us someway to fairytale, we watched them turn
and commit, wayfinding at last. As they faded
from view we read the map over again,
and we too, committed once more to the path.
Header Image Credit: Polly Pullar
Sarah Wallis is writer based on the East Coast of Scotland, 2023 works include poem art at Osmosis, podcasting with Eat the Storms and a winning story at The Welkin, new and forthcoming pieces at Green Ink and RockPaperPoem. A new chapbook Poet Seabird Island is due from Boats Against the Current next year, others include Medusa Retold, Precious Mettle and How to Love the Hat Thrower.