winter swans.

Migrating swans,

Flocking  to cool, low estuaries,

And  flooded farmers' fields.

Feather white as early spring snowdrops,

Soft as clouds.

Flying  just above the skyline,

Notioning the seasons change.

Winter is here on the island 

The  swans are here to stay. 

A brief but joyous moment

To remind me of the calm, 

A time always to go inward

As the days become shorter

and the nights start to feel so long.