Swan

wings of the swan raised, posed as if

calling the orchestra to attention

as he rises from the water paddling his feet

the black mask across his beak adding drama,

depth, barely a ripple in the water surrounding

his firm, stout body as he prepares his dance,

his mating ritual, bound to impress his lady

with his finesse, his stature and prowess among

all the other swans circling the lake

nesting among the cattails and remains

of wooden docks and pylons where

one day, not long from now, ducklings will hatch