Clamorous forms speeding by

in dark sky, sudden. Why

do I laugh and wonder

and not dive under

a neighboring overhang

not to be zapped, not bombed?

Because I’ve been self-taught,

about goose cries, to be calmed

by what they were not,

by how they squawked, not sang,

and did not make me hide

as from a whispery glide

or, from a silent hover,

take cover.