Schooling For Cygnets. Poem by Fay Slimm

An unusual scene
Met me quite recently.

Thirteen young swans, in an orderly crowd,
Sitting beside the path to their pool, waiting
To join in watery fun, - calling loudly,
But banished for now from the lake.

White feathered, half grown, last summer's cygnets
Are now out of bounds when Father's around.
He has a new brood of recent begetting,
And Mother ignores their piteous sounds.

So, settling they huddle, wait for the time
When young are protected no more, danger
Will then be past, and change will remind
Fiercest parents that all need favoursome
Room. Yet until that day no way is found
For thirteen young swans but hard schooling
In patience. Two weeks of hanging around
Has made them appear forlorn and subdued.

Thirteen half-grown cygnets
Now looking for outlets.