Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
Nothing induces wanderlust
like the call of migrating geese,
high up in the autumn atmosphere,
following the urge to the south
with all the empty miles laid before them.
We cannot do less than share
in that longing
to be gone.
Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 08.26.23
Prompt: The poem, Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver.
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