The Swan

 
I had thought myself
alone
at the edge
of the soft-flowing
river,
 
held in the grip
of the Earth,
 
fingers
of cool grass
winding
around my own.
 
Then she came.
 
The fluid curve of neck
long and white,
the sailing, soft wings
arranged
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
again, 
 
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.