I heard them first before they rose above the tree tops

Black against the evening sky with warm westing sun

Their guide to the great south and their home away from home

Their formation of open diamond shape is art at work

Their calling and rhythm of wings is a performance

As they carry each other together with power and beauty

We watch, those of us with eyes interested to stop and see

Those of us grounded on earth, grounded in our body

And we, or at least I, am filled with a sense magic, that

Somehow these birds can make such theatre of their travel

A leaving to a better place with energy and song and togetherness

Sanga should be this good, this visual, this alive

Calling Krishna together as we head home

Making others stop in wonder at our joy

Flying high above the world of names

Into the sunset of our material life

To land in a better place, in Krishna’s place

May we all follow the longing of our heart

And head into the open sky of Bhakti

As eager as the fall geese going south, without delay