Cian Verati
O, yonder goose! Benighted bird
who honks a many warning call!
Perhaps you’d spare imagined words
regarding death, which comes for all?
Do you, my goose, whose sky-rich years
dwarf next to human reckoning
give pause at all to midnight fears
of death’s eternal beckoning?
Perhaps a feathered god awaits
or you ascend deifically.
Do you imagine pearly gates
or yearn for more simplicity?
Do you, my goose, think when you sing
of limits, time, totality?
Or does this horror only cling
to man’s pond’rance of mortality?
