the small birds
have gone
nervous and twitching together
they sat on wires
now underlining
the spaces left for words
which won't come
in the dark
across gaps in the sky
geesefly homing- in
they cry this is our South
and I've been waiting
holding the moon high
over mud-flats
at the estuary's mouth
Stephen Brian Brady
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autumn-geese/
