I saw the swan again this morning. I assume it’s the same one, a lone swan. Such a sad sight. This is the first of a series I wrote, same images, reworked.
The swan
This morning the frost
bit with furry teeth,
bright as northern oceans
where the pack ice breaks
and glitters in the sun.
This morning in the ice-cold,
In the silence of bare trees,
I raised my eyes to the golden sky
and saw, white wings against the blue,
a swan fly into the light.