Futility

It was a scraping the ice off the day.
A skein of geese in the morning sky. When I got my bearings, I saw them flying south.
Good choice. Go to warmth and light.
Unaware of my approval they go on and leave me superfluous, non-essential, aware of my futility.
The geese follow their path, don't need nor want my sympathy - they pass me by, never note my longing for love and light.