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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