Swans In The Park Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

They glide on the wide glass surface
of the pond, melting it all
before them as they move.

All they can see is a trace
of their questioning necks in the broken scrawl
of the water as each ploughs his own groove.

Their gaze is deep, each hypnotised by its own face
dreaming of flights over lake, cataract and waterfall
through sunsets of crimson, magenta and mauve.

As they move they peck listlessly at snowflakes of light
melting like enchantment in caging confines of approaching night.