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