Another Walk Around the Lake of Swans

As I roved out around the garden loop,

Australian swans were swimming two by two

And sending ripples through the olive soup.

They bond for life and stay forever true;

What do they know that I don't know?

A pair of South Americans go by:

Their beaks so red and feathers white as snow

They cast my way a sad, imploring eye.

An English swan, the fairest of them all,

Arrests me as she brings to mind my mom.

She's still so stately in her cypress hall

Although she's so far from her childhood home.

She spoke to me as I was leaving,

Reminding me that I'm not done grieving.

(c) Frederick C. Ingram, January 31, 2018