like the geese, chasing the bleeding sky to gather another drop of gold

into their gilded wings,

we, too, chase, reaching for that sliver of sun and grasping for those droplets,

like gold, tumbling through fiery skies and wishing the sun would never set.

like the geese, we, too, search —

their beaded eyes know of places they have never seen.

what of our blinded eyes? i am afraid, i ask

yet the geese fly anyway, willing the horizon to unravel before them

and unspool an eternal sun.

yet we chase anyway, soar, side-by-side

 into that darkness, snatching from the shadows

another piece of

ourselves.