As a Swan
As a Swan
Unlike the heron,
landing quietly,
slipping into the
weeds,
setting the
example of minding
our own business,
swans can sound
like gunfire
when they come in
for a landing,
can take a real
man’s arm off,
but, once landed,
flow into view
as if their
graceful swimming
weren’t akin to strutting,
as if something
so lovely
couldn’t be so
mean.
They mate for
life,
swans do,
although
I wonder is it her
choice
or is she stuck
with the partner
that (apparently)
protects her?
Nothing wrong
with being
an ugly duckling,
if that duck is
free
from a man
behaving as a swan —
lovely to look at
but also
loud and
dangerous,
only seemingly protective.
This poem and picture were recently included in the wArts: Merrimac Mike Anthology VII.
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