Listen: The Geese by poet Joe Paddock
0:00

Minnnesota poet Joe Paddock shows his perceptions of the migration of wild geese across the Minnesota prairie in poem “The Geese.” Also includes musical elements.

MPR’s Vickie Sturgeon produced and hosted this series of five poetic looks at life in Southwest Minnesota. Others include:

·         "Frogs" - "Frogs", a raucous small-town happening in a narrative poem read by Joe Paddock.

·         "Phil Dacey" - Southwest Minnesota poet reads several of his works.

·         "Polka Power" - a report and poetic response to the polka festival subculture in the Upper Midwest with poets Joe and Nancy Paddock.

·          "It's a Pity" - Nancy Paddock shows her attempts to strike a balance with nature.

From the KRSW Poets-in-Residence Series.

Transcript:

(00:00:15) Each spring and fall flocks of geese still migrate over the vast Central Plains of the United States over this region the antelope and the Buffalo are Little More Than A Memory the great flights of swans and cranes have dwindled to a pitiful few but the geese crying their wildness to the sky still pass and they're passing is a magic which never fails to waken wonder and longing in those who witness it.
(00:00:50) A long line of geese waivers across bright sky calling and without a single thought wait faces of men and women turn upward to them. And each Lost In Flight is a child again and within each mind a Still Pond opens where the geese will settle for the night. He's
(00:01:25) tired
(00:01:32) as they winged through the window. I will arrive after hours in the Autumn afternoon
(00:01:50) show their
(00:01:57) cries Brighton. I'm limited in the Sun
(00:02:11) as
(00:02:11) they circled the Marshland
(00:02:15) and
(00:02:19) their day's flight was done. Oh their wings turn to fire in the dying of the
(00:02:33) Sun.
(00:02:40) Oh their wings turn to find out talking geese but making less sense. We migrate
(00:02:47) constantly to Winter.
(00:02:50) That's Springtime of nights Goose gabble Moonlight blend over
(00:02:55) Prairie the flocks writing
(00:02:57) thousands of miles of
(00:02:59) wind as ice drifts North walking alone on moonlit Prairie Goose talk falling through the night like spring snow
(00:03:10) ankle-deep in Goose Joy. I'm
(00:03:13) filled with love, but can't fly the geese at home in the Wind.
(00:03:20) Marcia's The Seasons
(00:03:23) Who Am I who are we what are we to do out talking geese but making less sense out
(00:03:31) we migrate decently but making less sense out talking migrate constantly, but making less sense out. We might gain constantly, but making this sense. We must bring time of night to lose gabble Moonlight blend over Prairie the
(00:03:48) flocks writing
(00:03:49) thousands of miles. Miles of wind as ice drifts North
(00:03:54) walking alone on moonlit Prairie
(00:03:57) Goose talk falling through the night like spring snow ankle-deep in Goose Joy. I'm filled with love, but can't fly the geese at home in the wind are
(00:04:13) the seasons. All the Geeks Who Am I who are we what are we to do? What are we to do? What are we to do Who Am I who are we? What are we to do? What are we to do Who Am I who are we? What are we to do Who Am I who are we what are we to do? What are we to do? What are we to do there's is the flow deep as anything can go we've ripped Our Roots from the Flesh of Earth-like hair from the head of an ancient woman. We flutter here confused on the surface sensing loss of the great flight of meaning.
(00:05:31) Newburgh, he's dream as they floated on Dark Water if their minds become the sky they would ride through the day It again has dreams as they floated on Dark Water hour after hour through the chilly Autumn
(00:06:26) night. Night,
(00:06:33) you took he's no joy as they Rose in the morning 1000 rested wings. Beating on Stillwater thrashing silver water into clouds of white
(00:07:12) foam though
(00:07:20) their wings turn to fire in the rising of the Sun. Oh their wings turn to fire in the rising of the Sun. Oh their wings come to fire in the rising of the Sun. As they winged through the window. in hour after hour in the Autumn afternoon.
(00:08:31) cookies This program was created by Joe Panik potent residence for Minnesota Public Radio Station care SW would like to thank the geese of the Lackey para refuge for their Joyful Noise. Produced in the Worthington Studios of care as W by Vicki sturgeon and Nancy Paddock. This program was made possible in part with funds from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Transcripts

text | pdf |

SPEAKER 1: Each spring and fall, flocks of geese still migrate over the vast central plains of the United States. Over this region, the antelope and the buffalo are little more than a memory. The great flights of swans and cranes have dwindled to a pitiful few, but the geese crying their wildness to the sky still pass. And their passing is a magic which never fails to waken wonder and longing in those who witness it.

JOE PADDOCK: A long line of geese wavers across bright sky, calling

And without a single thought, white faces of men and women turn upward to them

And each lost in flight is a child again

And within each mind a still pond opens where the geese will settle for the night

[MUSIC PLAYING]

(SINGING) Did the geese tire

As they winged through the wind

Hour after hour In the autumn afternoon

Oh, their cries brighten And glintered in the sun

As they circled the marsh lands

Their day's flight was done

Oh, their wings turn to fire in the dying of the sun

Oh, their wings turn to fire in the dying of the sun

JOE PADDOCK: Out talking geese, but making less sense

We migrate constantly to winter

That springtime of nights, goose gable, moonlight blend over prairie

The flocks riding thousands of miles of wind as ice drifts north

Walking alone on moonlit prairie,

Goose talk falling through the night like spring snow

Ankle deep in goose joy, I'm filled with love but can't fly

Ah, the geese at home in the wind, the marshes, the seasons

Who am I?

Who are we?

What are we to do?

Out talking geese, but making less sense.

Out we migrate constantly, but making less sense.

Out talking--

We migrate constantly, but making less sense

Out we migrate constantly, but making less sense

That springtime of nights, goose gabble, moonlight blend over prairie

The flocks riding thousands of miles of wind as ice drifts north

Walking alone on moonlit prairie,

Goose talk falling through the night like spring snow

Ankle deep in goose joy, I'm filled with love, but can't fly

Ah, the geese, at home in the wind, the marshes, the seasons

[MUSIC PLAYING]

(SINGING) Ah, the geese

Ah, the geese

The geese

JOE PADDOCK: Who am I?

Who are we?

What are we to do?

What are we to do?

What are we to do?

What are we to do?

What are we to do?

Who am I?

Who are we?

What are we to do?

What are we to do?

Who am I?

Who are we?

What are we to do?

Who am I?

Who are we?

What are we to do?

What are we to do?

What are we to do?

Theirs is the flow

Deep as anything can go

We've ripped our roots from the flesh of Earth

Like hair from the head of an ancient woman

We flutter here, confused on the surface

Sensing loss of the great flight of meaning

[MUSIC PLAYING]

(SINGING) Yeah, the geese dream

As they floated on dark water

Did their minds become the sky?

They would ride through the day

Yeah, the geese dream

As they floated on dark waters

Hour after hour through the chilly autumn night

Give the geese no joy

As they rose in the morning

1,000 rested wings

Beating on stillwater

Thrashing silver water into clouds of white foam

Their wings turn to fire in the rising of the sun

Their wings turn to fire in the rising of the sun

Oh, their wings turn to fire in the rising of the sun

Yeah, the geese tire

As they winged through the wind

Hour after hour in the autumn afternoon

JOE PADDOCK: The geese

SPEAKER 1: This program was created by Joe Paddock, poet in residence for Minnesota Public Radio Station KRSW. We would like to thank the geese at the Lucky Power Refuge for their joyful noise. Produced in the Worthington Studios of KRSW by Vicki Sturgeon and Nancy Paddock. This program was made possible in part with funds from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Funders

Digitization made possible by the National Historical Publications & Records Commission.

This Story Appears in the Following Collections

Views and opinions expressed in the content do not represent the opinions of APMG. APMG is not responsible for objectionable content and language represented on the site. Please use the "Contact Us" button if you'd like to report a piece of content. Thank you.

Transcriptions provided are machine generated, and while APMG makes the best effort for accuracy, mistakes will happen. Please excuse these errors and use the "Contact Us" button if you'd like to report an error. Thank you.

< path d="M23.5-64c0 0.1 0 0.1 0 0.2 -0.1 0.1-0.1 0.1-0.2 0.1 -0.1 0.1-0.1 0.3-0.1 0.4 -0.2 0.1 0 0.2 0 0.3 0 0 0 0.1 0 0.2 0 0.1 0 0.3 0.1 0.4 0.1 0.2 0.3 0.4 0.4 0.5 0.2 0.1 0.4 0.6 0.6 0.6 0.2 0 0.4-0.1 0.5-0.1 0.2 0 0.4 0 0.6-0.1 0.2-0.1 0.1-0.3 0.3-0.5 0.1-0.1 0.3 0 0.4-0.1 0.2-0.1 0.3-0.3 0.4-0.5 0-0.1 0-0.1 0-0.2 0-0.1 0.1-0.2 0.1-0.3 0-0.1-0.1-0.1-0.1-0.2 0-0.1 0-0.2 0-0.3 0-0.2 0-0.4-0.1-0.5 -0.4-0.7-1.2-0.9-2-0.8 -0.2 0-0.3 0.1-0.4 0.2 -0.2 0.1-0.1 0.2-0.3 0.2 -0.1 0-0.2 0.1-0.2 0.2C23.5-64 23.5-64.1 23.5-64 23.5-64 23.5-64 23.5-64"/>