Winter midday across the
still soaked wetlands filled with
shades of browns and greens,
while the sun sits at 10 o’clock,
warm with just the slightest
breeze shivering the grasses
and the trees as a reminder of
the chilly season on hold
for just one day as a hint
of spring’s annual promise.
Birds in the distance flying
high over the sun dripping
scene, others fluttering across branches
or perched on scattered seats along
the wandering walkway to everywhere
and nowhere, and in the distance
the hazy bay is set against
the blue of sky and scattered
lazy clouds give nothing
but the slightest fluffy drift away.
Such is this day of calm
relief against the backdrop
of human noise and woe
that awaits on return to
the other world not of
nature’s wondrous repose.
And on the way home, in the brackish
water ways that thread through the
muddy flats, two sets of tranquil swans
have returned, their blackened necks
peaking beneath the water for food,
as they wait, fertile, for spring to rise.