To Be A Swan Poem by Victoria Davis

What comfort to be pen and cob
who make their quiet bond,
and know they are never alone!
Not alone in the journeys of spring and fall,
Not alone in the chaos of the winter flock.

On the glassy water they find each other,
Blowing bubbles and gently splashing.
Stretching, twisting, in tender circles,
Finding and renewing their plight;
All journeys, all pains, all celebrations -
contained in the orbit of their arching necks.

When the dance is done,
and he settles in the dimming light,
She folds her black bill into the softness
beneath her wing and feels his warmth nearby.
They dream and live and love, and
imperfect as the bond might sometime be,
the circle of wings and necks
mirrored on the waters' surface endures.