Wings

The whistle and flap of swan wings
And morning mist
The sharp piping cries of moorhens
The wild goose hiss
A fisherman sits in silence
Awaiting a bite
While all around the frost flowers
Steal the light
The crunch of booted feet
On gravel under
As slowly now the sun draws
Haze asunder
The tiniest streaks of blue
Across the sky
And all the while the swans
Fly noisily by

©️jj 2018

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