Before the Lake Freezes

A flock of geese bathe in the lake,
dwarf the mallard drakes
that drift past.
Without breeze, their calls
echo through the trees
and can be perceived
as far as stone cast.
As a gander rears,
breast thrown high,
and swings his wings
with a visceral force,
scattering the cool waters
of early winter,
springs a maelstrom.
The wind of his span
drives the ducks back
and gives him path
to the bread a little girl
has tossed from the overpass,
as she begs her daddy,
“Can I take one home?’