SWANS, WHERE WE DON'T EXPECT THEM
Tundra swans twine necks
among snowflakes
vanishing into evening's
river. Past break up,
tablecloths of rotten ice
nest along the bank.
Halfway, swan wings
open, then settle in
like second thoughts.
Maybe they flew
north over Minto,
traced halos
over brooding ponds,
saw from far up
without touching
the world is hard
and will stay hard
a while longer.
~Peggy Shumaker
With thanks to Bellingham Review.
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