Formation

Stop, listen,
I said,
and tapped your arm mid sentence.
Look: and we looked up
on Rectory Grove.
Drawn across the late blue sky
like a calligraphy pen,
a perfect V formation of geese,
squabbling their way to the sea.
We stared at them with idiot smiles.
They seared above us only for a
second or two,
we held a bottle of prosecco
running with condensation,
one of those last warm nights,
and went off to drink it,
but
rendered speechless
by those endlessly chattering birds.