The Swan
John Grey
The ivory swan
flows like it’s all wing
in a sky of water.
I walk by the pond well enough
but may as well be hobbling
compared to the bird’s smooth passage
from bank to bank.
If I didn’t know about
its kick of feet below the surface,
I’d figure the swan was powered
by nothing but grace.
There’s hope for me yet.
Plant your feet where you will, John
but hold the head high.
Imagine yourself still
and the landscape moving under you.
