Routes take shape
 as flight takes root,
  and lines of geese,
miming tide look

more like unbound
 scripture, the past
  that comes to pass.
With clocks turned

back, sky spells out
 abandonment in
  the hand of wind,
a pact between cells

when cold lays
 down the law
  and waves of wings
break on time,

inherent faith,
 no different than
  ours, leaving home
to find the way home.