Poems of Nature and Humankind

The swans are on the pond
necks bowed, perfect confections
holding court over the dripping Victorian sugar egg of this
willow-clad park

Mute swans aren’t silent at all
they just rasp and sputter in a most
unbecoming manner

Perhaps I have put too much stock in these silly birds
broad beating wings, bodies tipped ass-up
pulling breakfast from the muddy bottoms

Waddling on the banks ungainly croaking
vintage cartoon washerwoman grotesque
have I startled them in a state of undress