The Wilde Goose Chase

Autumn’s gilding trees again the Downs in shrouds of white,
A skein of geese flies overhead across and out of sight,
The sun is slow upon the rise, the shadows stretching long
The changing world of seasons calls for summer to be gone.

I heard the thudding of their wings like hoof beats in the air
The skein with the leader out ahead, mesmerized I stare,
Their world, their rules, up they rise, into the morning sky,
Each day they feed on the fallen seed then to the West they fly.

In olden days a race was held with horses on the land,
The leading rider chose the path, where his horse was best at hand,
The others followed as they can o’er mud and stream and hill,
The race was on the leading horse and rider had his will.

The Wild Goose Chase, where you chose your ground to gallop on,
Mirrors the Geese as they travel home into the autumn sun,
The others follow, hard behind racing as they may.
Each leader has his chance of fame, each rider has his day.

This ancient race has gone apace as nature’s rules are clear,
The Wilde Goose Chase from sky to downs continues over there.
The distant city shrouded now in autumn mist and grey
The Wilde Goose Chase is definitely on in nearly every way.

They battle on for leadership, dominance and fame,
I watch the Geese I see a world very much the same;
The Wilde Goose Chase – leader wins – is a metaphor for living,
The race is on, rise to task for failures unforgiving.

Caroline Baldock © 2017