by David Norris-Kay
Swan
White ghost glides on the darkened mere,
With graceful neck coiled into space,
In peace that knows no inward fear,
She leaves a wake of laughing lace.
In rolling ripple's dancing moon,
A cygnet seeks her preening queen,
Who wakes a sylvan-piper's tune
That floats through glades of living green
The slow span of her spreading wings,
Flings splashing stars on seas of night:
And where their breeze-borne echo rings,
The spectral swan will pass from sight.
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2010-02-01 01:52:02.
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