Senses

Senses


At recess—
faces tilted to the sky— 

Eyes, 
widened saucers—

noses, 
leaky of Autumn’s chill— 

tongues,
upward curls—

ears,
flared petals— 

hands, 
cupped,

visors against
the blinding sun.

High overhead
a rare view,

the perfect V 
of silvery geese 

sliding south. 

j