Resting
A winter-
encroached upon the unsuspecting.
They, in their attempt to flee
left their path in disarray.
The geese led the way,
and died mid-flight to
Like the butterflies-
their colorful corpses littering the ground.
Flurries covered their mortality,
soft feathers thanking the hospitality.
Sweet liquor satiates the sacred ground,
from the bottle of a drunk passerby.
All is quite lonely.
All are stuck inside.
All have finally died.
And to rest they finally went.