swan's down
My wings beat
they almost creak
but I don’t feel the weight of them.
After hundreds of miles
it’s all the same to me
it’s all the same.
I don’t know why I’ve come back again,
the old familiar track across the sky
it brought me.
My head turns as I look
from left to right
to see my comrades.
But one familiar face is missing.
She is missing.
We mate for life, you see.
Now I’m a spare part swan
in the swannery.
A moment of clumsiness
as I arrange myself upon the water.
A boredom settles over me like snow.
The other swans re-connect
their pairings -
all is excitement and chatter!
Twisting my neck
I slip my head beneath a tired wing to sleep.
I hide my head and sleep.
And dream of all the fluffy cygnets
that we had.
It’s over now.
You’ll find me in the morning.
Sodden, drifting on the lake.
Because this swan is so very down.
Ann Foxglove
Sat 23rd Jan 2010 13:29
Hi Stef - really impressed that you read my poem so thoughtfully! I guess "brethren" sounds religious to me, like monks etc, and I felt that the swans would be like comrades battling against the elements as they flew all those miles. Also, re the ending of the poem, I wanted to have the play on words as in "swan's down" and "swans down", the first being short for "swan is down" and "swans down" being their soft featherinesses. And I quite like the way it lightens the mood - I think the poor old swan is taking himself a bit too seriously! Maybe he is a drama-queen swan! Don't know really! ;-)