Swanuary

One year, the local cygnets took their leave
from Lower Lake before December’s end.
And neither parent seemed inclined to grieve;
each turned towards the other with the bend

of elongated neck we’d come to know
as signalling seduction. Something stirs
as soon as all the cygnets start to show
a little white, a brisk wind whips the firs –

and on the afternoon of that New Year,
the breeding pair went walking through the grass.
George took the lead, although it wasn’t clear
he had a route as such. They came to pass

beside the leisure centre’s doorway – stopped
immediately, stared at what they saw:
reflections in the glass, two forms, uncropped.
Who were these beauties, both without a flaw?

The light was fading; time to head for bed,
so back they trundled, past the wintry trees,
with George, again, a little way ahead.
Their own white feathers rippled in the breeze.

​

- - -

Published on Snakeskin, January 2025

​

- - -​

As the cherished readers of our poetry will be aware, Word-Bird and I take a keen interest in the wildlife of our local park. I’m a member of Pittville Swans & Friends, which has a Facebook Page. It’s a delight to keep up to date with what’s happening down on the lakes, especially when I’m unable to go out for long spells due to illness.

​

As soon as I saw a post about George and Maisie appearing to admire themselves as reflected in the windows of Pittville’s leisure centre, I had to write a poem about it. Shortly before the event, I’d spotted the swans doing a little wandering while I was going around Lower Lake on a brisk afternoon; it was too cold to linger, but while writing the poem I followed them in my imagination, all the way to the windows, then back to the lake and finally to the little island where they rest. It’s just George in the photo above, enjoying his outing!

- - -