Apologies to Brendan at earthweal if I’ve missed the point with this one. I got carried away with big white birds.`
The lone swan flies into the light,
so white, bright-feathered,
lost to sight in the brilliance of the sun.
Below in the golden meadow,
white-plumed egrets strut, pale herons,
yellow bills dart and dig beneath plum and fig.
Each to his own, grace in the skies,
searching for what is lost, flown,
while stocky cattle birds stab and dab.
I would be a swan-ship, petal-cargoed,
not frog-grubber, cow-ticker, parody in plumes,
but I have lost the right to choose.