The river was a spool of silk brocade
unwinding from a reel somewhere upstream
the surface ruffled
slightly as the wind rose
shaking down a cloud of needles
from the pines
the geese seemed to be coasting
on the windgusts
but it was the mergansers
caught my eye
out along the far bank lifting off
and splashing down
as if on cue the little flock would slip
beneath the surface
diving in unison like a school
of tiny porpoises
I'd watch while we sat chatting
sipping wine with friends
an easy stone's throw
from the water's edge
surrounded by the scent
of autumn leaf-fall
were they frolicking or
was it life and death
were they successful
in their hunt
no way for me to tell
but their swift movements
were a ballet synchronized
so perfectly
that even though a bit rude
to our hostess
I found it hard to take my eyes away