The Swan

I had thought myself
at the edge
of the soft-flowing
held in the grip
of the Earth,
of cool grass
around my own.
Then she came.
The fluid curve of neck
long and white,
the sailing, soft wings
like a chariot,
putting dancers
to shame
with her perfect
lines and
unconscious grace.
Did she know,
when her feral eyes
met my searching ones,
how beautiful she was?
I only know
what I felt
in the brief glimpse
of shared sight.
She, wild,
saw me, tame,
and suddenly
I was known
as a creature
one with all nature,
a breathing thing
among many brothers
and sisters 
under the sky.
She sailed on until,
a white cloud, 
she was carried 
round the bend
and away.
But she did not 
leave my heart,
for she had given
me myself.
I recognised
what I had forgotten
-I was home.