The Swans Poem by Linda Galvin

Two swans,
In regal procession,
Glide in pomp and majesty;
Along the polished glass corridors
Of broad fen and hidden canal.

Behind, the ripples spread
To breech the mud-caked banks;
Leaving the plume-head reeds
To bob and bow,
In acknowledgement of their passing.

Elegant necks
Encircled with diamond droplets,
As heads dip to break
The tension of the watery meniscus,
To search for choicest morsels.

Graceful serenity
Flows through shape and form;
Unblemished reflection of purity.
In haughty pride of matchless beauty,
Secure in royal armour.

Busking to protect, with curved neck
And raised wings;
Now entwined.
The union of cob and pen;
Fidelity shown in love.
Unbesmirched by the grey ugliness of progeny.

The beating of web on water,
Uplifted by turbulent zephyrs;
Till stretched in nebulous array,
In white silhouette
Against the azure and crimson streaked sky.

Wide wings slowly beating
With a vibrant throbbing;
Like a fletcher’s silver arrows
In flight.
Rhythmic chords in motion.

One, returning in mournful solitude,
To the rude bare mound
Of waterside vegetation.
A deserted isle
Of domesticity.

Solitary cygninae,
Where is thy mate?
How mute is your song?
The beauty of a voice
That sings of a love that has died.