Many Voices

Once more the northern chill
Brings back the goose and crane
Flying low above harvested fields
Of succulent -
      yet forlorn grain

Flying like ancient ancestors
From a prehistoric time
Beyond a crimson fortress
Of sun -
      and darkening sky

I listen to their melodious song
A chorus from ancient rhymes
Trumpeting a symphony
Of voices -
      from ancestral times

An instinctual call to the living
From all that have come and gone
A migrating beacon
Of travelers
      Singing as one


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