Poem of the Week

Geese

Robert Travers

That day the sun rose as if
it was the most natural thing
in the world; as if the long lake
glaciers had dug in the hard

bed of a withered sea
would keep the sea’s salt
buried forever like treasure;
as if the least you could expect

was for geese to swim through
blue air in a luminous shoal,
a great white mesh hauled
up the deep blue of the lake;

as if snow itself had hatched
a flock of fat flakes on the ground
and taught them how to fly
under their own steam; or as if

it should come as no surprise
to find yourself amazed,
between the salt and the sunlight,
catching snow-geese with your bare eyes.

Robert Travers was born and raised in the United Kingdom and lives in Ithaca, New York, where he teaches history at Cornell University. His poems have appeared in Areté Magazine and Grey Magazine.
Originally published:
March 3, 2021

Featured

The Shapes of Grief

Witnessing the unbearable
Christina Sharpe

Writing in Pictures

Richard Scarry and the art of children’s literature
Chris Ware

Garth Greenwell

The novelist on writing about the body in crisis
Meghan O’Rourke

You Might Also Like

Poem of the Week

Notes for My Funeral

Alex Dimitrov

Poem of the Week

Over and Above

Jennifer Grotz

Newsletter

Sign up for The Yale Review newsletter and keep up with news, events, and more.