The Swan

 

From right across the frozen lake he comes to me

Simply responding to my walking across the lake –

No plastic bag in sight!

But calling him in my mind’s focus.

He comes out of the water

To take the wholemeal bread from my hand

He stands as tall as me – beak at eye level

 

Mute he is not – He hisses –

Warning me not to try and touch him

Is this because he has been caught before –

Perhaps for tagging?

He snorts –

Greedily and haughtily

Asking for more – I think!

 

His wings are partly raised in a classic swan shape -

Two taut bows curving to touch -

Brilliant white fluffed feathers on an iron frame

 

Are they raised in readiness for attack or flight –

If I make a wrong move?

 

I talk to him calmly

Telling him he is beautiful

And I am sorry there is no more

I should bring him wild trout heads for better nutrition

I reflect that his response to me

Is a mirror of most males’ responses to me –

They want to take the nurture

Ut they are afraid of intimacy – afraid of entrapment

 

And I reflect that this modern male response

Is a mirror of our lost Mother Earth worship –

We take her nurture

But we do not want to be intimate with her –

Close to her - to respect her - give back to her -

Give ourselves up into her -

Love her

 

Fear of feeling open and vulnerable

And protecting one’s own space

Seem to be symptoms of our society’s

Icy, Iron-hard brittle tension

Melt me -

In case maybe it’s a mirror 

Of my own fear.