The swan remembers, journeys,
through five sets of cygnets,
countless wide full-moon vigils,
back to the most deathly freeze.

Under weight of ice
branches fell from lakeside trees,
many a stoic witness fate overcame;
small bodies entombed in sharp crystal.

As a glance of sun inspired flight
all found equal- the neighbour lakes-
incarcerated in themselves,
inhospitable and unmoving.

It became the fashion to snatch
any exotic morsel swallowed,
fresh wells and warm corners were items of faith
and the hunt had to be relentless.

In the present tense the swan remembers
the trial, the heart, the victory;
in mute, stoic courage and stillness
feels the sharp ice crystals chilling.