I wrote this poem in 1977, while I was a senior in high school. Watching the geese fly north to mark yet another spring has reminded me of it so I thought I would share it. What do you think? To a Flock of Wild Geese A long V of black shapes against the sky; Winging their way North; Flying past hunters who would stop them on their journey home. The aged leader followed the course set in his mind; His children trailing at his wingtips; Hardly flying at all but Riding on a wave of air.