Swan Spell

cygne atterrisage 01

Her knuckle rap broke a spell
on ice glaze in a pail at the cabin door.
Then as if it were the signal for descent 
a sixteen wedge of swans…
…brazen as Valkyries…
arrived from the north to claim residence
at that March pond wilderness.
Their five cubit wingspans
rasped currents in clear air…
though brassy throated honking
flawed white-shimmered elegance.
They…she and the swans…
existed easy at awareness edges
in that swan days progression
as she became a watcher…
watched their preening with unguents 
  drawn deep from dazzling feathers
watched their courting bustle on woody muskrat berms…
watched the intertwining of their mating thrash…
watched nests like floating barges 
 gently rocking eggs that broke to downy cygnets
watched promenades of pen…cygnets…cob…
 as they paused to dabble pondweed…
    wild celery…bluestem…brome.
Then one November morning pail water glazed,
and she watched…entranced…as swans ascended
lifting heavy bodies…earth free…magnificent.
Bonnie Marshall

Time for Drowsy

Artist: Bill Vincent
Artist: Bill Vincent

Time for Drowsy

Time for drowsy
to yawn and stretch
and burrow under quilts
against a winter chill…
to think of brown bats
close folded into caves
or cooing doves
all snugged in cotes
with easy breaths
and resting hearts.

Time for drowsy
to calm anxiety…
forget the stress of time
think seconds and not days
pearl quiet not brass noise.

For there will come a morning
to waken to warm kisses
and welcome restlessness
and quicken back to life.

Bonnie Marshall