The Geese

This time of year the Canadian geese are on the move at dusk. At my house, dozens, hundreds--some far up, some just above the house. I can hear them, and not just their calls, but their wings, as they move west to east (a peculiar direction, but maybe it's the wind and a free ride?). How can you not be amazed, be floored at this planet and the life on it? What do I matter without it? How can we be so passive about this world, give our consent--known or unknown, direct or indirect--to its ill health? I touch a spikey coneflower, I put my hands to the cool soil, I pile frozen rain beside the drive, I take in the air like a deep kiss, I open my mouth and my eyes and my ears and I sing, I vibrate with the tune of the world. I am a disciple of the inventor Nikola Tesla: the world has acoustical resonance. And I need to be retuned.