Rachel A. Robins

River fingers part, forming a sand bar
sanctuary for wintering geese.
Free from predators, they quietly sit
on marshy pews,
creating a sacrament of the
present moment. Soft sunlight
shines a benediction upon
dappled grey wings, a blessing on
bowed black heads.
Sensing a reverence, the breeze
whispers a hymn as the river
rolls gently by.
Looking like saints in the stillness, geese
quietly tuck their beaks into their
sides, preparing for the sleep only
sanctuary can give.