after Songs of the Celtic Winter by Ashley Davis
A lovely alto in stereo
warbles her wintry mix of Celtic words
and Breton Airs, singing of the nollaig moon
at Christmastime, welcoming fuacht—
the cold of weather or place—
when Canada geese alight like flurries
in the field behind my house.
My young Retriever fixates on them first
(we share the view
through the double-hung windows),
her brown eyes deepening with their every move
as they scrounge for crumbs of corn
in this hour before dusk.
Auld Lang Syne seems to resonate
with the gaggle, their black heads bobbing
when another flock swoops in, and another,
blasting their horns, then lifting again,
sailing their legendary skein across the gray sky.
The voice of the old year thins.
My dog lives in this moment.
She doesn’t need carols or songs
to forget old wrongs like the merry men do
in the English ballad now filling the house.
I never know which day is lost
or which day redeemed.
I only know when the birds return, syncopating
the snow’s refrain, one noiseless, white goose
materializes in their midst.
Julie L. Moore is the author of four poetry collections: Full Worm Moon, Particular Scandals, Slipping Out of Bloom, and Election Day. A previous contributor to Whale Road Review, Moore has also had poetry appear in Image, New Ohio Review, Poetry Daily, Prairie Schooner, The Southern Review, and Verse Daily. Moore is an associate professor of English and the director of the Writing Center at Taylor University.