Life as an Extreme Sport

golden goose

I was a silly goose once
When the wind swept thru my hair
The grass lay at my feet
And I ran for the sheer joy
of movement and motion
Silly is a word we associate
With the young
     and care free
Whose laugh lines haven’t frozen
From a river of tears
Etching a path down the
     glacial planes of
     cheekbones, lips
The goose given way
To a crow and feet
Carefree becomes careful
Remanded with nothing more
     than memory