yesterday a swan, Carole Webster

a gradual
slow lift
into frost

from a low
tide the river its
green heavy

flow I see loose
feet work to push
against gravity

and the pull, the
almost sure white
feathers

I can feel the air
and hear it - the
swan wings their

on off beat loop
over bleached reeds
- the climb in

a tightening ellipse
releases high
above the river

away from the
wider estuary
from me (standing

on the muddy path)
I turn a circle to
watch this flight

glare into the sun against
cold mercury blue and
winter burnt leaf colours.