Red-tongue waggling geese.
I take aim with my laser pointer. The pair does not exit to water. Anger, springs.
I use words. Go to the island. That is your home. You are not welcome here. You are messy; you do not listen. You never fly south. You terrorize.
Now up close, I raise my wings, become large.
One sits solidly on the bank, but the other, raises up to his enemy,
Still determined I press forward eye to eye we face off.
I shoot the laser in his evil goosey eye,
He does not blink.
My arms grow weary. I fold them in front of me in praying surrender, and start to back away.
The two geese switch positions quickly,
As I continue to stare, I know there is only one reason they would switch positions.
Five fat eggs will be hatching,
Mama and Papa fiercely protect—
Spring, on Pine Lake.