
Charles Farrell © 2010 All Rights Reserved
By the River
I came upon two geese
caught in mid-startle,
orange-billed, stark white
against that dark scrim of willows.
Bolt-alert and wall-eyed, downstream
current’s steel sheen rippling
at their back; they might
have been posed,
waiting for pen
or lens or trigger.
***
Dawn at Yellow Point
First, the light.
Then the strokes
of light pattern
and re-pattern
themselves:
wash
drybrush
line
drybrush again
lap and
near and
open
as birds
wake, chittering.
William Hudson was born in Arkansas, grew up there and in Illinois, lives now in Spokane, where he works for a community action agency. He has appeared in the Caribbean Writer, Review Americana, Shaking Like A Mountain, the Other Journal, and elsewhere.