Am I a good goose?

Photo by Brett Sayles at Pexels

I have two friends who
are each possessed of vivid
imaginations –

graces poetic
souls are thankful for as they
wrestle with human

vicissitudes and
worry about their own place
in the scheme of things –

and both ask me to
consider ‘am I a good
goose?’ as I head home

to Caerlaverock
and I honk and snort at it
while also intrigued:

‘am I a good goose?’ –
in high flight above earth in
arrow formation

that never questions
my worth – and I focus hard
but am no scholar

and ‘good?’ gives way to
a beautiful sunset and
the peace that exists

in being simple
and plain goose-like amidst a
world full of other