The Swan
THE SWAN
It’s unseasonably warm
The sun is high
And I’ve wandered down among the rushes
Bare-legged, knobby kneed, warm mud oozing between my toes
When she catches my eye as she slowly slides by
This graceful swan
No alarm shown, no ruffling of feathers, no hurry
She continues on, close to the bank
And, after a certain spell, is gone
I gaze up into a cloudless sky – one gull gliding high
And suddenly I am one – for but a moment –
With some formless, sandy jelly
Inched ashore from the hot primordial sea
This sense scalds, travels the length of me
And only a close reappearance of that lovely swan
Brings me back to reality
This poem was inspired by Andrea Dietrich's charming book, Prosies. If you haven't read it, I urge you to buy a copy =
Shadow Poetry
1209 Milwaukee Street
Excelsior Springs MO 64024
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