The Flock of Geese

A flock of geese soars through the sky of the city I live in,
That flock flying high—I wish it would land near the lake close to my home.
I enjoy spending time by the lake, feeding the gentle geese the leftovers of breakfast bread.
Some geese feel threatened by my presence and let out an annoying screech...
But once I toss them the breadcrumbs, I hear their whispers and murmurs.
Nearby, there’s a sign written in German: “Feeding geese is prohibited,”
But I disregard the municipality’s law—my geese friends won’t betray my secret, they are discreet...
They don’t even speak of their adventures in distant lands.
As summer ends and the young ones’ wings grow stronger, they fly away...
I don’t know where the geese go.
Perhaps they search for shelter among the snowy clouds,´-or-venture to faraway blue stars.
A flock of migrating geese in the sky of the distant city I live in—
Could that happy flock be Iraqi geese?
And if they return home, will they also pass through Shingal’s sky?

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