Intrepid Travelers
Upon a cold and blustery day,
The dome of earth is steely gray.
The migrant birds in vees take flight,
Guided by stars and silver light.
They glide upon the wind like kites,
And rise above the cloudy heights.
A daily journey miles long,
They flap their wings and honk their song.
They pass by cities made of glass,
Toward valleys green with untouched grass.
They fly above the canyons deep,
And watch their shadows softly creep.
Winter’s cycle—southward bound:
Intrepid travelers touching ground.
Paulette Calasibetta is a retired interior designer. Her poetry has appeared on line and in print in numerous journals and anthologies.
When the dome of earth is steely gray, yet intrepid birds are guided by stars and silver light, they must sense something invisible. Good simple way to describe the impulse to migrate, Paulette.