Geese in Formation

Geese are flying south for winter,

Honking air traffic control signals,

Exhorting weary ones to pick up the pace.

How do they find home

without a strategic plan and GPS?

What Invisible Knowing

knows The Way?

What Archer forms the squabble into a single arrow,

and hurls the gaggle into the promise of the empty sky?

As my winter approaches,

Unknowing becomes

the only reliable compass.

My weary wings

surrender to the sky-wedge

of Mystery

and find their rhythm.

Nimbus striving eases into cumulus clarity,

and the flight path of soul truth

comes without effort,

as I glide through the full emptiness,

guided by a Grace I’ve never known

flying

into the headwinds.