Love

(''... making of mud and feathers poetry.'' Patric Dickinson)

The swan flounders

at the edge of the lake,

her broken wing

lifting and falling in the mud,

struggling to find again

the secret of feathered flight.

Now her mate

descends from the open sky

to comfort her -

to fly in short circles, land, and wait,

to fly up again and land and wait

tirelessly....

The swans commune. The lake mud cannot hide

the flickering white.

About these ads
Sponsored Content by LockerDome

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...

Save for later

Save
Cancel

Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items

OK