A Disciplined Arrow

Waypoint Travelogue

Originally published in Roi Fainéant, January 2022

I must be something like
The hundred billionth primitive idler
To witness this
Annual assay of the geese
Southbound following the
Turning earth’s body heat

(Dim eye for their returning
Weak voice for their retelling)

Honking, they draw the circle,
They make a disciplined arrow,
And the forces of nature move with them —

And all that spell needs
Is our crossroads at the center,
Fly in the web,
Lamb softening again,
Or the slow drip
Of that dear blood, oh flock,
Forever.

---

The Fall always comes in with a certain benevolent grace. It is a season of purposeful movement, the transition between the nervous, chaotic energy of summer and the frozen stasis of winter. The geese go from north to south, following the colors of the leaves. We humans move through a series of ritual celebrations, traveling to see family across physical and emotional distances.

Somehow, these journeys are always journeys home. In autumn, we remember to stop looking outward and to return to our own landscapes, our own little caves, our own stories. We stop throwing ourselves out into the world and return to the world that’s made in ourselves.

Here is a poem. It was published in 2022, but it was probably written a while earlier. Roi Fainéant Press is still going strong several years later, and I’m grateful to them for putting this and four of my other favorite poems online.