We saw the swan in a swamp.

In himself a contradiction.

The graceful “S” of his neck woven into

the gnarled roots and vines,

the startling white breaking through the brown and green.

Peculiar to himself, as distinct as can be.

We watched for a while,

entranced.

.

An otter swam by,

and managed to entice my eye.

Carried away by an impulse, I watched.

Unobserved, the swan went on his way,

shedding his feathered tear.

It drifted away from me and my distraction,

and so have you.

.

Davis Dryer