SWANS ON THE GO

6 0 0
                                        


Along the eastern shore of Grenadier Pond,

there is a comforting quiet.

Where the soft whirring of fishing reels,

sinkers breaking waters surface

and the rustle of squirrel and chipmunk feet through underbrush,

can faintly be heard, above the soothing silence.

Only two sounds regularly and discordantly rise above the tranquility.

The fleeting, timetabled, roaring whoosh and clackety-click

of the regional GO trains passing in the distance;

and the intermittent, almost frantic rhythms played upon the ponds surface

by flapping wings and large, dragging webbed feet,

as pairs of massive white swans labour to take flight.

Followed once again, by the calming embrace

of the Gardiner Expressway's white noise.

POEMS from EAST of WESTМесто, где живут истории. Откройте их для себя