i never did believe in cygnets
nor families of swans but now
both paddle up the canal beside
me like the girls of my dreams ...

downy fluffy beige & beautiful
eight cygnets swallow stream water
in long-necked gulps right legs
stretched & contorted above as

left flippers gliding on mother
& father following drowsily behind
nearer & further away white as
wisdom gentle as the truths

of birth growth & slow decline
death the black swans feather
squinting eyes that see it all
& eight more stories to sing ...