Elegy for the Swans at Grace Pond
Bored with bread the children throw to her,
the swan who lost her one great love
when he washed up, tangled in the cold dawn,
drowned in the roots of the willow,
clings to the blue pond and its amnesia.
Grief makes her circle the willow’s shadow
where she waits for him to appear
evenings when the light disappears
and each lap of waves grows greener.
Before a hole opened up in the life
they’d invented in the clouds,
we watched them, tangle their necks
around each other, sailing side by side
as to save themselves from our world.
Bruce Weigl, What Saves Us. (Triquarterly; 1 edition January 1, 1992)